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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
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NEW  ENGLAND  MANUEACTURERS’  AND  MECHANICS 


INSTITUTE 


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OF  THF  AR'r  DHFAR'rMFNT 
OF  THF  NFVV  FN(;FANI)  MANU- 
FACTURFRS’  AND  MECHANICS' 
I N ST  I T U T E 


COM.MirTKH:  ON  CONDUCT  OF  TMF  EXPOSITION 

JOHN  M.  FIJ'l'EE,  CHAIRMAN. 

.|\MKS  E.  I.rri'I.K,  RRESIDENT.  ^ JOHN  F.  W'oOD,  TKFASUKI'.K. 

FREDERICK  W.  GRIFFIN,  SECRFrARV. 


UlMlAM  CO.,  I’l'fiLlsHERS,  KOSTaV,  MASS, 
COPYRIGHT  1883  BY  AkIHi  R B.  rCRN'CRE 


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PREFA CE 


IN  offering'  this  Catalogue  to  the  public,  the  Managers  of  the  Institute  have 
essayed  to  make  it  as  perfect  as  their  opportunities  would  allow.  They  have 
aimed  to  show  by  it  the  status  of  the  culture  and  intelligence  of  x\merican 
Art  in  some  of  its  most  important  phases  as  it  exists  to-day.  The  artists  were 
asked  to  send  in  their  etchings  and  drawings  that  they  most  desired  to  exhibit. 
And  the  most  prominent  art  editors  and  writers  were  solicited  to  contribute  their 
views  of  art  from  different  stand-points.  There  only  remained  for  the  managers  to 
select  the  best,  and  to  publish  these  woiks  in  the  most  artistic  manner  that  our 
native  resources  were  capable  of  How  they  have  succeeded,  the  public  alone  can 
evidence  by  their  criticism  and  patronage.  The  managers  desire  to  express  their 
gratitude  to  the  artists  and  writers  who  have  assisted  them  in  this  labor,  and 
trust  that  the)'  will  feel  that  an  equivalent  has  been  rendered  to  them.  When  draw- 
ings have  been  omitted,  it  has  been  because  the  good  of  the  artists  was  considered, 
as  well  as  that  of  the  Catalogue.  Mau)^  superior  drawings  have  not  been  used,  on 
account  of  their  coming  in  too  late,  and  the  careless  drawing  of  others  known  to  be 
e.xcellent  was  something  deplorable  from  an  art  catalogue  stand-point.  That  there 
is  a strong  and  growing  art  feeling  among  Americans  to-day  is  evident  from  the 
signs  of  the  times,  and  it  is  no  reproach  to  any  body  of  men  that  they  recognize 
this.  To  encourage,  to  foster,  and  to  guide  this  growing  spirit  in  art,  is  the 
ambition  of  the  founders  of  the  N.  E.  M.  and  M.  Institute. 

Fr.vnk  T.  Robinson, 

At'/  Director. 


John  M.  Little, 

Cliainnan  of  Comnittce  on  Exposition,  i88p. 


There  is  none  made  so  oreat,  but  he  may  both  need  the  help  and  service,  and  stand  in  fear 
OF  the  power  and  lINKINDNESS,  EVEN  OF  THE  MEANEST  OF  MORTALS. ’’—SKNECA. 

CATALOGUE  OF  EX  HI  LUTS 

ALLEN,  Thomas.  Pelham  Studios,  Boylston  street,  Boston. 

I.  iMaplehurst  at  Noon. 

Owned  by  'I'homas  IS.  Clarke,  \ew  York  City. 


ATALL,  Agnes  D. 

2.  (3n  the  Wild  New  England  Shore. 

3.  On  Coolidge’s  Point  Magnolia,  Mass. 

4.  Sweet  Peas. 

_?  ?7  Fourth  avenue,  Netv  York. 

ARNOLD,  M.  E. 

5.  P'lower  Study. 

6.  A Summer  Day  at  P'armington,  Conn. 

Providence,  R.  I. 

ANTIGUA,  J.  P.  A. 

7.  P'isherwoman. 

8.  • Head. 

From  collection  of  R.  Wall,  Esq., 

Providence. 

ALLICN,  Erel).  H. 

9.  Serving  Girl. 

10.  Norwegian  Sunset. 

Boston. 

ADAMS,  Charles  L. 

I I . Landscape. 

12.  Studio  Interior. 

Savin  Hill  avenue,  Boston. 

ADAMS  & MUZZY. 

13.  Civil  Engineering  Designs. 

Boston. 

ALBEE,  Byron. 

14.  A Sketch  at  Squantam,  Mass. 

14.  Winter  street,  Boston. 

ANDREWS,  Helen  P'. 

15.  Sunset  on  the  Kennebec. 

Providence,  R.  I. 

APPLEOl-^IST,  E.  E. 

16.  On  Mystic  Pond. 

75  Court  street,  Boston. 

ANDREWS,  J.  R. 

17.  November  Sunset,  Hyde  Park. 


Boston. 


ATWP'LL,  Lizzie  B.  i/f.ga  Tremont  street,  Boston. 


1 8. 

Portrait. 

19. 

Portrait. 

BUNCP:,  Wm.  Gednev. 

80  E.  Washington  square,  New  York. 

20. 

Island  Sunset. 

21. 

Clouds  and  Sails. 

22. 

Midsummer  Venice. 

Porn  at  Hartford,  Conn.  Studied  in  Munich  and  Pari.s. 

Exhibited  in 

1879,  Salon  and  Paris  Exposition. 

BODFISH,  W.  P. 

Wareham,  Mass. 

23- 

The  Rehearsal. 

BARKER,  Miss  C.  F. 

Boston. 

24. 

Portrait. 

BECKWITH,  Arthur. 

1 1 S5  Broadway,  New  York. 

25- 

Portrait. 

26. 

State  Camp,  Peekskill,  Seventy-first  Regiment. 

27 

In  the  Revolutionary  War. 

BAUER,  W.  E. 

Elizabeth,  N.  J. 

28. 

In  the  Meadow. 

BRADLEY,  Louise  A. 

Winchester,  Mass. 

29. 

Sketches. 

BLOODGOOD,  Robert  F. 

E. 

Thirteenth  street.  New  York. 

30. 

A Water  By-way. 

BURT,  Annie  F. 

Providence. 

31- 

Tropical  P'ruit. 

32. 

Cherry  Ripe. 

33- 

Roses. 

BENTLEY,  W.  E. 

Boston. 

34- 

Scene  on  Charles  River. 

35'- 

Road  at  Byfield. 

BARRY,  Mary  E.  S. 

Boston. 

36. 

Apples. 

37- 

Thistle.  ■ 

38. 

Cat-tail. 

BUNNER,  Rudolph  F. 

Q W.  Eourteenth  street.  New  York. 

39- 

Marsh  Lands. 

BURGMOFFER,  J.  J.  G. 

no 

Dearborn  street,  Chicago,  III. 

40. 

Slave  Cabin. 

41. 

The  Barley  P'ield. 

42. 

Entrance,  Spanish  Fort,  New  Orleans. 

43- 

Sandy  Beach,  Lake  Michigan. 

44. 

Sandy  Road. 

102  Washington  street,  Chieago,  III. 


BEECHER,  A.  D. 

45.  The  Smoker. 

BROWN,  Mrs.  Eva  A.  Winehester,  Mass. 

46.  A Maine  Lake. 

47.  A Farm  Road. 

BR(_)OKS,  Alden  E.  70  Monroe  street,  Chieago,  III. 

48.  On  the  Seine. 

49.  An  Alsatian. 

BOUGUEREAU,  W.  A. 

50.  Peasant  Girl  of  Savoy. 

From  collection  of  Jolin  A.  Brown,  Esq.,  Providence. 

BONNAT,  L.  J.  F. 

51.  Italian  Girl. 

From  collection  of  John  .•\.  Brown,  Esq.,  Providence. 

BOLGHTON,  G.  H. 

52.  Head. 

From  collection  of  John  Brown,  Esq.,  Providence,  R.  I. 

BONDIN,  E. 

53.  Marine. 

From  the  collection  of  B.  Wall,  Esq.,  Providence,  R.  I. 

BON H EUR,  Peyrol. 

54.  Landscape  and  Sheep. 

From  collection  of  Oren  Westcott,  Esq.,  Providence,  R.  I. 

BREVOORT,  J.  R. 


55- 

Heath  near  the  New  Forest,  England. 

BROWN,  J.  G.  N.  A. 

56. 

Give  me  a Swing. 

Born  in  England,  1S31.  Received  several  medals,  .\mong  the 

best-known  .-\merican  artists. 

BURGESS,  Ida  J. 

Chieago,  III. 

57- 

If  nid. 

58. 

xTn  Idle  Hour. 

BACON,  Mrs.  Chas.  E. 

Dover,  N.  H . 

59- 

Old  Man’s  Head. 

60. 

Panel.  Roses. 

61. 

“ Wisteria. 

62. 

Study  of  Corn. 

BIGELOW,  D.  F. 

lyo  State  street,  Chieago. 

63- 

Fern  Lake,  Adirondack. 

64. 

The  Old  Mill  Road. 

Boston,  Mass. 


BIXDEX,  A.  H. 

65.  A Country  Road. 

BELLE,  Lucv,  Miss.  Exeter,  N.  H. 

66.  Flowers. 

67. 

68. 

69. 


BRISSOT,  F. 

70.  In  the  Stable. 

BRIDGMAX,  Charles.  /<5  Cotirt  street,  Brooklyn,  N.  K 

71.  Amphitrite. 

72.  Meadow. 

73.  Blackberry  Money. 

74.  Mary. 

75.  In  Bad  Humor  for  Breakfast. 


BOOTT,  Elizabeth. 

76.  Italian  Children. 

77.  Autumn  Flowers. 

78.  Court  in  the  Alhambra. 

BURR,  Louis  H. 

79.  The  Interrupted  Meal. 

BROWX,  W.  M. 

80.  Plate  of  Peaches. 

BROWX,  H.  K.  Bush. 

81.  Purity. 

82.  The  Rural  Divinity. 

BOLIMER,  M.  De  Forest. 

83.  Spring-time. 


47  Mt.  Vernon  street,  Boston. 


p IV  Fourteenth  street,  N.  V. 

Brooklyn,  N.  E. 
Newburg,  N.  I’. 


5/  W.  Tetith  street.  New  York. 


BECKWITH,  J.  Carroll.  58  W.  Fifty-seventh  street.  New  York. 

84.  Azalie. 

Born  in  Missouri,  1852.  Studied  under  Carolus  Duran  and  Vvon.  Received  Honorable  Mention. 


BICKXELL,  Frank  A.  Malden,  Mass. 

85.  Strawberries. 

BICKXELL,  A.  H.  Malden,  Mass. 

86.  Road  Scene. 

87.  In  the  Woods  after  a Storm. 

88.  X"ear  Annasquam. 

Pupil  of  Thos.  Couture.  His  “ Gettysburg”  and  ■'  Battle  of  Lexington  ” are  among  his  best  works. 


BECKET,  ALvria  J.  C. 


89. 

On  the  ]h")rder  of  the  Eorest. 

90. 

October  Day  in  the  Woods,  Vt. 

91. 

A Cloudy  Day  in  Virginia. 

BROWN,  Nellie. 

J 2 Studio  Biiildi)ig,  Boston. 

92. 

Intaglio. 

93- 

Crayon. 

BURR! EL,  Edward,  Jr. 

Market  street,  Lynn,  Mass. 

94- 

Contentment. 

BEAMAN,  Waldo  G. 

y Treniont  street,  Boston. 

95- 

Spring  Evening. 

96. 

Sunset,  Lake  Champlain. 

BRENNEMAN,  S.  W. 

202  Second  avenue,  Neio  York. 

97- 

An  Idyl. 

BURLEIGH,  S.  R. 

No.  Maifi  street.  Providence,  R.  I. 

98. 

Day  Dreams. 

99. 

Under  the  Apple  Tree. 

BARSTOW,  S.  M. 

182  Washington  street,  Brooklyn,  N.  k. 

100. 

Road-side  in  the  Catskills. 

lOI. 

Early  Evening,  Coast  of  Darien, 

Conn. 

BROWN,  Paul. 

McCormick' s Building,  Chicago,  III. 

102. 

A Home  on  the  Rolling  Deep. 

103. 

The  Pride  of  Old  England. 

Horn 

in  Troy,  N.  V.  Ills  “ Basket  of  I'eaclies,”  pul)lished  and  sold  in  cliromo,  gained  idni  a vviile  reputation. 

BANNISTER,  E.  M. 

jO  UYod's  Bnilding,  Providence,  R.  /. 

104. 

The  Stone  Quarries,  Morning. 

BARBER,  J.  Jay. 

47  Monroe  avennc,  Colnnibns,  0. 

105. 

Cattle  on  the  Bay  Shore. 

Born  in  Oldo.  Exhil)ited  in  the  principal  e.xhihitions  of  New  York,  Pennsylvania,  and  the  East. 

BREUL,  Hugo. 

Butler  Exchange,  Providence,  R.  /. 

106. 

Old  Letters. 

107. 

Still  Life. 

BURNHAM,  Geo.  W. 

1 1 Indiana  street,  Bosto/i. 

108. 

Balaam. 

1 09. 

Nile  Fishing  Boats. 

1 lO. 


BASS,  Lewis  C. 
The  Pasture. 


Woonsocket,  R.  1 


lo^  Mnxfield  street,  Nezo  Bedford,  Mass. 


BROWNELL,  Lranklin. 

111.  Portrait  of  Mile.  M.  D. 

1 1 2.  Peasant’s  F ireside,  Barbizon,  P' ranee. 

BATCHPILLOR,  Lrederick  S.  2 College  street.  Providence,  R.  1. 

113.  Harbor  of  Providence,  R.  P 

BRUNTON,  Nellie  Sumner.  Brighton,  Afass. 

1 14.  Painting. 

BARNARD,  PAiward  H.  57  Tremont  street,  Boston. 

1 15.  Across  the  Plains,  Belmont. 

BROWN,  Geo.  L.  Malden,  Mass. 

116.  Birthplace  of  Tas.so,  Sorrento,  Italy. 

1 1 7.  Morning,  A Group  of  Ilex  Trees,  near  Rome. 

Born  in  Boston.  Lived  in  Paris  and  Florence.  His  works  hang  in  the  richest  art  collections  in  Europe  and 
.\merica.  The  Prince  of  Wales  possesses  two  of  his  works.  One  of  the  best-known  American  painters. 


BOARDMAN,  James  B. 

Sangns,  Mass. 

1 18. 

Strawberries. 

BALL,  Robert  S. 

p Milk  street,  Boston. 

1 19. 

Convent  of  Isola  Bella. 

1 20. 

Cupid  and  Psyche. 

I 2 I. 

Halt  in  the  Desert. 

122. 

Sketch  on  the  Thames. 

123. 

P' lowers  and  P'ruit. 

BURPEE,  William  P. 

4(5’  State  street,  Boston. 

124. 

Morning,  P'og  with  Catspaw  Breeze. 

125. 

Calm  Before  a Storm. 

BRIDGMAN,  L.  A.  N.  A. 

I 26. 

View  on  the  Nile. 

Boulevard  de  Clichy,  75,  Paris.  — B.,  .\labama,  1847. 

Pupil  of  schools  of  the  Brooklyn  Art  Association, 

N.  V.,  and  later  of  J.  L.  Oerome,  Paris.  First  ex.,  Salon,  Paris,  1S61  ; N.  A.  D.,  1871.  A.  N.  A., 

1875;  N.  A.,  1881. 

BRADLORD,  Anne  H. 

West  Wins  ted,  Cozizi. 

I 27. 

Portrait  Sketch,  15th  Century. 

I 28. 

Pond  Lillies. 

BURTON,  Walter. 

Boston. 

I 29. 

Crayon  and  Color  Portraits. 

BOGGS,  L.  M. 

Paris,  France. 

130. 

La  Place  St.  Germain  de  Paris. 

Owned  by  Messrs.  Hawk  & W'etherbee,  Winsdor  Hotel, 

New  York.  The  artist  had  two  works  in  this  year’s 

Salon,  one  was  purchased  by  the  French  Government. 

The  one  above  by  Messrs.  John  A.  Lowell  & Co. 

BRITCIIKR,  A.  T. 


I :a  • 

In  Summer-time. 

132. 

When  the  Leaves  I'all. 

BELLOWS,  A.  E.  N.  A. 

133- 

The  Old  Mill  Stream. 

134- 

E}’es  to  the  Blind. 

BACHER.  Otto  II. 

135' 

St.  Mark’s  Shrine. 

136. 

Zatten. 

BLACKMORE,  Arthur  E. 

Mount  \~cniou,  N.  1 

137- 

Cottage  in  Devonshire,  England. 

BUCKINGHAM,  J.  R. 

JO  East  Fourteenth  street,  X.  1’ 

138. 

Azalias. 

139- 

Old  Orchard. 

BROWN,  Robert,  Jr. 

Boston. 

140. 

Hall  and  Staircase. 

141. 

Old  Cabinet. 

142. 

The  Rood  Screen. 

CARTER,  John  G. 

Tjg  Treinont  street,  Boston 

143- 

Niagara  Ealls.  American  I'alls  from  Goat  Island. 

144. 

Gray  Day  on  the  River. 

Studied  with  Win.  M.  Hunt,  and  for  sev'crai  years 

ills  studio  companion. 

CRANE,  Bruce.  Jc?  Ji: 

Fifty-seventh  street.  New  York. 

145. 

A Woodland. 

146. 

Early  Spring. 

COEFIN,  W.  A.  jW  JK 

Fifty-seventh  street,  Neiv  York. 

147. 

^Esthetics  in  August. 

148. 

The  Close  of  Day. 

B. 

, Aiiegiieny  City,  Pa.,  1S55.  Pupii  of  Bdnnat,  Paris.  Eirst  ex. 

.,  Saion,  Paris,  1S79;  N.  A.  D.,  1881. 

CARLSEN,  Emil. 

27  Treinont  Rozv,  Boston. 

149. 

Peonies. 

CHAMPNEY,  J.  Wells. 

yyj  Fourth  avenue,  Neiv  York. 

150. 

“ Heow  d’  yr  du.” 

Pupii  of  Ifdwani  Frere.  His  works  are  in  the  most  important  coiieclioiis  in  this  country. 

COOMBS,  D.  D. 

Auburn,  Me. 

151. 

Lewiston  Ealls,  Maine. 

CARY,  W.  M. 

A'ezv  York. 

152. 

Oxen  Drinking. 

15  3- 

Sheep  and  Cattle. 

CHAPMAN,  Carl  T.  ^V.  A.  Design,  Nciv  York. 

154.  Twilight,  Maumee  Bay. 

COLBY,  GEORGE  E.  Chicago. 

155.  Morning  in  the  Woods. 

CHASE,  Anne  V.  Medford,  Mass. 

156.  I'iusseh  P'arm,  Medford. 

CONTINENTAL  STAINED  GLASS  WORKS. 

157.  Oxohyalographic  Windows. 

COBB,  Cyrus.  Studio  Building,  Boston. 

158.  Prospero  and  Miranda. 

liorn  in  Malden,  1834.  Has  written  on  art  themes,  and  is  twin  brother  to  Darius  Cobb. 

COBB,  Darius.  Studio  Building,  Boston. 

159.  Portrait  Rev.  Reuen  Thomas. 

Born  at  .Malden,  Mass.,  1834.  His  portraits  of  Rufus  Choate,  Gov.  .\ndrew,  Charles  Sumner,  and  others, 
have  gained  for  him  an  enviable  name. 

CLAYS,  Pierre- Jean. 

160.  Marine. 

Erom  the  collection  of  John  A.  Brown,  Esq.,  Providence. 

COROT. 

161.  Study  in  Rome. 

Erom  collection  of  Jolin  .\.  Brown,  Esq.,  Providence,  R.  I. 

CROOKlf,  Jessie  M.  Boston. 

162.  Painting. 

CHAR  LET. 

163.  Soldier  of  the  Eirst  Empire. 

From  collection  of  B.  Mall,  Esq.,  Providence,  R.  1. 

CHASE,  Harry. 

164.  C.)n  the  Sands. 

Pupil  of  tVagner,  Piloty,  and  others.  Has  e.xhibited  in  the  Salon  and  other  important  national  e.xpositions. 

CARR,  Lyell. 

165.  Out  in  the  T'ields. 

COLE,  Thomas. 

166.  Portrait  of  Washington. 

Owned  by  1 1.  L.  Shattuck,  Esq. 

CLOSSON,  WiM.  If.  Trenio}it  street,  Boston. 

167.  Phigravings. 

Has  taken  a .Salon  medal,  and  is  one  of  the  best  of  .\merican  engravers. 

COROT. 

1 68.  Landscape. 

169. 

170.  “ 

171. 

172. 


From  collection  of  B.  M’all,  Esq.,  Providence,  R.  1. 


Hartford,  Conn. 


CATLIN,  Mary  L. 


173- 

Just  Brought  In. 

COLGAX,  James  W. 

« Boston. 

'74- 

Portrait. 

CARPKNTICR,  Ellen  M. 

Tp  Franklin  street,  Boston. 

175- 

'Primming  Her  Hat. 

176. 

Still  Life. 

Pupil  of  (iuison,  Berlin;  Robert  Fleiiry 

and  Jules  Le  Febvre,  Paris. 

COVEY,  Caroline  C. 

Bt.  Paul,  Howard  Co.,  Adbraska. 

177- 

And  Pansies  for  Thoughts. 

CO  BP.,  Mrs.  !■:.  P. 

2ipo  Michigan  avenue,  Chicago,  111 

178. 

Still  Life. 

179. 

Plate  of  Peaches. 

CHATAIN,  Alfred. 

Ashland  Block,  Chicago. 

1 80. 

Portrait. 

CHICKPIRING,  Walter  E. 

181. 

Crayon  and  Photographic  Portraits 

CURTIS,  Lester  L. 

Boston. 

182. 

Crayon  Process. 

DABNEY,  Julia  P. 

ly  Boy  Is  ton  street,  Boston. 

183. 

Moor. 

184. 

Oriental  Head. 

185. 

Wiggelia. 

186. 

Chrysanthemums. 

187. 

A Breezy  Afternoon. 

188. 

Mademoiselle. 

1 89. 

A Game  of  Marbles. 

190. 

Looking  Out  for  the  Boats. 

DABNPIY,  Mrs.  Erederick. 

Boston. 

191. 

On  the  Hague. 

192. 

Achen  See. 

193- 

Off  Newport. 

DAUBIGNY,  C.  E. 

194. 

Spring-time. 

From  collection  of  John  A.  Brown,  Esq.,  Providence,  R.  I. 


De  CRANO,  F.  F'.  15^0  Chestnut  street,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 

Asleep. 

Ready  for  Conquest. 


195. 

196. 


DOLPH,  J.  H.  A.  N.  A. 

197.  A Mother’s  Cares. 

Studied  under  Louis  Vankuyek,  at  Antwerp. 

DAUBIGNY,  C.  F. 

198.  Landscape. 

199. 

200. 

201. 

202. 

From  collection  of  B.  Wall,  Esq.,  Providence,  R.  1. 

2J  Music  Hall,  Boston. 

Boston. 


DUNSMORE,  John  W. 

203.  Portrait  Rev.  M.  G.  Savage. 

Pupil  of  Thomas  Couture. 

DAY,  Uknry. 

204.  Witcli  Hollow,  Bar  Harbor. 

205.  Oriental  Poppy. 

206.  Cactus. 


DIETERICH,  H.  A.  E. 

207.  A Page. 

208.  A Sweet  Flower. 

209.  A Bit  of  Jersey  Road. 

DOW,  Miss  Florence. 

210.  Portrait. 

211.  Ideal  Head. 

DABNEY,  W.M.  IF,  Jr. 

212.  A Village  Street. 

DIXWELL,  Anna  P. 

213.  Still  Life. 

214.  View  from  Sharon  Springs, 

215.  Villa  de  Este.  Rome. 

DODGE,  Philip  H. 

216.  Peaches  and  Grapes. 

217.  Pears  and  Blackberries. 

DODGE,  Mira  R. 

218.  Bread  and  Beer. 

219.  Daisies. 

DRAPER,  P'rances,  Jr. 

220.  Morning  in  Harbor. 

DECKER,  J. 

221.  Still  Life. 

222.  Still  Life. 


?op  E.  Tiucnty-fifth  street,  Nezv  York. 


Boston. 


ij  Boy  1st  on  place,  Boston. 
Jamaica  Plain,  Mass. 

r York. 


Toni  s River,  N.  J. 


ijj6  Vermont  avenne,  Washington,  D.  C. 


i6j  Warren  avenne,  Boston. 
Humboldt  street,  Brooklyn,  N.  Y. 


Wi listed,  Conn. 


DOUGHTY,  Carrie. 


223. 

Still  Life. 

224. 

Peonies. 

225. 

I''ruit  and  Glass. 

226. 

Azalias. 

227. 

Cherries. 

228. 

Landscape  Studies. 

DICKSON,  JoiIX,  Jr. 

Philadelphia. 

229. 

'Pile  Artist. 

DIAZ,  N. 

230. 

Princess  and  Attendants. 

From  collection  of  John 

Brown,  Esq.,  Providence. 

DUPRIi,  Julian. 

231- 

Haymakers. 

From  collection  of  John  A. 

Brown,  lisq.,  Providence,  R.  I. 

DOUG  11  PY,  T. 

232. 

Landscape. 

From  collection  of  John  .V. 

Brown,  Esq.,  Providence,  R.  I. 

DAUBIGNY,  Karl. 

233- 

Landscape. 

Collection  of  John  A. 

Brown,  Esq.,  Providence. 

DAVIS,  Anna,  M. 

Boston. 

234- 

Decorated  Porcelain. 

235- 

Oueen  Louise. 

DICKLRMAN,  Mrs.  G.  \Y. 

Boston. 

236. 

Squam  Lake,  N.  1 1. 

237- 

Plolh'hocks. 

P:DVPARDS,  Georc.e  W. 

Paris,  Prance. 

238. 

P'ishing  Boats. 

John  A.  Lowell  & Co.,  ISoston,  owners.  Vigorous  painter.  Ilis  works  liave  gainer 

him  a conspicuous  place 

among  the  young  American  artists. 

I3KS13RGIAN,  Cornig. 

12 

West  street,  Boston. 

239- 

He  is  Late. 

240. 

A Mohammedan  Priest. 

LKSERGIAN,  Telemaque. 

12 

West  street,  Boston. 

241. 

Thirst. 

242. 

An  Old-I'ashioned  Oriental 

Artist. 

243- 

An  Asiatic  Lady. 

LMMICP,  Rosina. 

East  l\ocka%aay , Long  Island,  N.  L. 

244. 

Aurora. 

//^p  Mt.  Vernon  street,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 


E A KINS,  Thomas. 

245.  The  Biglins  Practicing. 

246.  A Quiet  Moment. 

Born  at  Philadelphia,  1844.  Educated  under  Bonnat,  Gerome,  and  Dumont.  His  works  are  owned  in 
many  of  the  great  cities  of  the  world. 


247. 

248. 


249. 

250. 


251. 

252. 


253- 

254. 

255- 

256. 


257- 


>58. 


259- 


Morning  in  the  Meadows. 


EATON,  Chas.  H 
Morning 
Peonies. 

IM)DY,  Sarah  J. 
Portrait  of  F 
Tittle  Indian  Girl. 


52  E.  Twenty-third  street.  New  York. 


Born  near  .\kron,  O.  First  ex.,  X.  A.  D.,  1881. 


Portrait  of  Fred.  Douglass. 


EEKINS,  Ida. 

Pets. 

Game. 

EATON,  Charles  Warrex. 
Twilight,  Staten  Island. 
November. 

Winter  FAening,  New  York  Bay. 
A North  River  Pier. 


ECHTLER,  Adolph. 

Lost  in  the  Woods. 

From  collection  of  B.  Wall,  Esq.,  Providence,  R.  1. 


Providenee,  R.  I. 


New  York. 


282  Sixth  avenue,  Nezv  York. 


EAREE,  L.  C. 

News  from  Home. 

ELWEEL,  D.  Jerome. 
Studv  from  Nature. 


70  Monroe  street,  Chieago,  III. 

Gloueester,  Mass. 


Studied  many  years  abroad. 


/ppr?  Treniont  street,  Boston. 


FUEEER,  George.  A.  N.  A. 

260.  Portrait. 

Born  at  Deerfield,  Mass.,  1822.  Studied  abroad,  and  has  become  one  of  the  most  celebrated  of  .\merican 
painters. 

FARR15R,  Hexrv.  yi  JlPst  Tenth  street,  Nezv  York. 

261.  Now  Come  Still  FLvening  On. 

262.  The  Old  Wind  Mills. 

263.  FA'ening  on  the  I5ast  River. 

264.  Gowanus  Bay  Shore. 

Born  in  London,  1843.  Has  exhibited  in  Salon  and  every  important  exhibition  in  .\merica,  during  the  past 
fifteen  years.  His  works  are  always  tender  and  full  of  poetry. 

FOWLFLR,  F'raxk.  University  Building,  New  York. 

265.  Kitty. 

X'ative  of  Xew  York.  Studied  under  E.  White,  Florence,  and  Carolus  Duran,  Paris,  .\ssisted  the  latter  in 
painting  frescoes  for  the  museum  of  the  Luxembourg  exhibition  in  Salon,  1878. 


Xc'w  York. 


FKRY,  Miss  L. 

266.  Chrysanthemums. 

267.  Bird  Nesting. 

268.  Altar  1^'all.  \\’a\-ne  Co.  Penn 

h'ORl),  H.  C.  J Yroadzvay,  Xczv  York. 

269.  A Soutliern  California  (den. 

270.  Santa  Barbara  Mission. 

271.  San  (jabriel  Mission. 

l!orn  in  Livonia,  X.  V.,  1828.  .Sludied  in  Pari^>  and  Llnrence.  President  Cliicatjo  Academy  of  Design, 

US71  — 75- 


I'AIRCHILD,  Lizzie  M.  j6  Mount  Auhnrn  street,  Cambridge,  Mass. 


272. 

Lilacs. 

273- 

Marigolds. 

274. 

Cactus. 

FARR,  Mrs.  Fllex  B 

II  Union  Park,  Boston. 

275- 

F' lowers. 

276. 

Bric-a-Brac. 

1'F:R(3US0N,  Helen  M. 

y Mount  street,  Proy,  Ac 

277. 

New  Process  Mirror  Portraits. 

FALKFNBURGH,  R. 

Munieh. 

278. 

The  Lagunes  of  VTnice. 

I'RlfLLAND,  Anna  C.  / ? Pearl  street,  Woreester,  Mass. 

Bull’s  Head,  “ Duke  Marlboro.” 

Sir  Philip,  No.  307. 

Lady  Baronne,  Second,  No.  308. 

ILdl’s  Head,  “ Noble.” 

Deerfoot  Jerseys. 

Red  .Setter,  “ Sam.” 

FROMENTIN,  Kulene. 

285.  7\rab  Florsemen. 

Erom  collection  of  John  Brown,  Esq.,  Providence. 

286.  Falconer. 

Erom  collection  of  B.  Wall,  Esq.,  Providence. 

FAIRMAN,  James.  A.  M.  ./o  East  Tiventy-third  street,  Xezo  York. 

287.  FLigle  Cliff,  Massachusetts. 

288.  Bethel  Meadows,  Maine. 

Burn  in  ('dasgow,  Scotland,  1S26.  Kx-member  of  X*.  Scliool  Board.  Colonel  X.  V.  X’inety-sixth  Regi- 
ment, late  war.  Has  written  and  lectured  on  art  matters  e.xtensively.  Studied  m Idusseldorf,  Paris,  and 
London. 


279. 

280. 
28  I . 

282. 

283. 

284. 


FLACdi,  Charles  Noel.  /ja  JY.  Fifty-seventh  street.  New  York. 

A Monk. 

Laughing  Boy. 


289. 

290. 


Cincinnati,  O. 


FOOTE,  E.  K. 


291. 

]\Iohawk  Bridge. 

292. 

Clifton  Canal,  Ohio. 

G REN  NT,  Edward. 

28  E.  Fo2irtce)itli  street,  Nczu  York. 

293- 

A Warm  Day. 

Pupil  of  W.  Bougueveau  and  Robert  P'leury. 

GARRATT,  J.  H. 

28  Winter  street,  Boston. 

294. 

June  Wild  Elowers. 

GIORDANI,  Pietro. 

• 

295. 

Plaster  Study,  Theodore  Parker. 

GREEEEY,  Miss  C.  G. 

Sargcntville,  Me. 

296. 

Hollyhocks. 

297. 

Yellow  Roses. 

GARDNP:R,  IWlZABETll  B. 

Salem,  Mass. 

298. 

Magnolias. 

GAUBAULT,  A. 

299. 

Off  Duty. 

GRIGGS,  S.  W. 

Boston 

300. 

Morning  on  the  Connecticut. 

301. 

A Spring  Study. 

302. 

A New  England  Road  Scene. 

GRAVIES,  Abbott  P'. 

Maplezvood,  Mass. 

303- 

P'lowers. 

GORDON,  Mary  S. 

Brattlcboro,  Vt. 

304- 

Blackberry  Vine. 

305. 

Meadow  Lilies. 

306. 

Wild  P'lowers. 

307- 

Wild  Flowers. 

308. 

Wild  P'lowers. 

309- 

Wild  P'lowers. 

GAY,  Geo.  H. 

81  Ashland  Bloek,  Chicago,  III. 

310. 

Morning  on  the  Sea. 

GUILD,  Sydney  P. 

Lynn,  Mass. 

3II- 

P'ishing  Boats,  Gloucester,  Mass. 

GPLRRY,  Samuel  L. 

6y  Monroe  street,  Boston  Highlands. 

312. 

Return  of  the  Cattle  from  Pasture. 

313- 

The  Eisherman  of  the  P'lume. 

314- 

Lafayette  Brook,  P'ranconia. 

GIH{R,  Miss  M.  R. 

Nciu  York. 

315- 

Spring-time. 

316. 

Share  and  Share  Alike. 

GEKTS. 

317- 

Lost. 

From  collection  of  Joh 

1 A.  Brown,  Esq.,  Providence. 

GUILLEMET,  L. 

318. 

Landscape. 

From  collection  of  B. 

Wall,  Esq.,  Providence,  R.  1. 

GAY,  Edward. 

319- 

Golden  Grain. 

GRLENAVOOU  POTTERY  CO. 

Trenton,  N.  J. 

320. 

American  Vitreous  China  W 

"are. 

GOODALL,  Mary  S. 

ly  Boy  1st  on  Place,  Boston. 

321. 

Callas. 

322. 

Peonies. 

GLAUZ,  Ignaz. 

Nciv  York. 

323. 

Decorative  Glass. 

GOSSELIN,  H.  C. 

Hartford,  Conn. 

324- 

On  the  Shore,  Holland. 

HUNT,  Charles  D. 

75  St.  James  Place,  Brooklyn,  N.  E. 

325- 

Outlet  of  Lake,  Adirondack^ 

326. 

Ausable  River. 

327- 

Otter  Creek,  Vermont. 

328. 

Cliffs  of  the  Ausable,  Adirondacks. 

329- 

Tramp  Fiddler. 

HUNTER,  F.  Leo. 

Cold  Spring,  X.  E. 

330. 

Long  Island  Sound. 

HIRST,  Claude  R. 

42  E.  Fourteenth  street,  Xciv  York. 

331- 

Jacqueminots. 

* 

HALEETT,  Hendrich  A. 

Boston. 

332. 

Old  Mill  near  Natick. 

333- 

Navy  Yard,  Boston  Harbor. 

HASSAM,  F.  Child. 

Boston. 

334- 

In  Central  Park. 

HASKELL,  Mrs.  C.  M. 

Xczv  York. 

335- 

Roses. 

HERRICK,  Caroline  K. 
336.  Poinsettas. 


Brick  Church,  X.  J. 


Schcrincrhorn  street,  Brooklyn,  N.  ]’. 


HEPBURN,  WiLLLAM. 


337.  Our  Flocks. 

338.  The  Pasture  Lot. 

339.  Winter  Quarters. 

HORGAN,  J.  J. 

340.  Garfield.  '\ 

341.  Hope.  > Statues. 

342.  P'aith.  ' 

343.  E.  R.  Mudge.  ) 

344.  Longfellow.  > 

Cambridge,  Mass. 

HOLLIS,  Samuel. 

345.  October. 

346.  August  Morning. 

Boston. 

HENRY,  E.  L. 

347.  Sunday  Morning. 

5/  W.  Tenth  street.  New  York. 

HALE,  Miss  Martha. 

348.  Margaret  G. 

7/  Bartlett  street,  Roxbury,  Mass. 

HOUSE,  Mrs.  J.  Alford. 

349.  Chrysanthemums. 

88  William  street,  Bridgeport,  Conn. 

HASKELL,  Ida  C. 

350.  The  Gardener’s  Daughter. 

1 10  Dearborn  street,  Chicago,  III. 

HILL,  Mrs.  L.  S. 

351.  View,  Bay  of  Naples. 

352.  Roses. 

26  Temple  street.  New  Haven,  Conn. 

HARDY,  A.  N. 

353.  Photographs. 

HAMMOND,  D.  W. 

354.  Charles  Street  Jail. 

HOLER,  H. 

355.  A Winter  Twilight. 

Munich. 

HENDRY,  Frank. 

356.  Shore  Sebago  Lake. 

J Oscar  street,  Roxbury,  Mass. 

HETZP:l,  George. 

357.  Study  from  Nature. 

Pittsburg,  Penn. 

HUNT,  Wm.  M. 

358.  Head. 

From  collection  of  John  A.  Brown,  Esq.,  Providence,  R.  1. 


359- 


36o. 


?6i. 


362. 


IIKRCAN,  Jules. 

Landscape  and  Sheep. 

l‘'rom  collection  oi'  1!.  Wall,  Esq.,  Providence. 

HAAflLTON,  II.VMILTOX. 

The  Peddler's  Visit. 

HOPKINS,  Geo.  K. 

Court  at  Chioo^o'ia. 


-Wru  York  City. 
Cincinnati,  0. 


HART,  W’m.  N.  a.  V.  Jf.  C.  A.  Building,  Tiacnty- third  street,  Xeio  York. 
Napanock  Scenery,  Ulster  County,  New  York. 

Born  in  Scotland,  1822.  Ex-President  Brooklyn  .\cadeniy  of  Design.  A brilliant  colorist. 

80  E.  Washington  Square,  Nezo  York. 


363 

364 


HOMLR,  W'iNSLOW.  N.  A. 

Coming  Tide,  Plnglish  coast. 

Fisherman’s  Daughter,  Fnglish  coast. 

Born  in  Boston,  1836.  Exhibited  in  Salon.  Paris  Exposition,  and  the  most  important  exhibitions  on  both 
sides  of  the  Atlantic  since  1864. 


HOVKNDFN,  Thomas.  TFa-  York. 

365.  Chloe  and  Sam. 

( )\vned  by  Thomas  B.  Clarke,  XAw  York  City. 

366.  Head. 

Erom  collection  of  B.  Wall,  Esq.,  Providence.  Graduate  of  Kensington  .\rt  .School.  Studied  under  Cabanel. 
Contributed  to  Salon,  1S78. 


HALSALL,  William  F. 

367.  I'ishermen  Becalmed. 

HFRRICK,  S.  B. 

368.  Jacqueminot  Roses. 

INTERNATIONAL  POTTERY  CO. 

369.  American  Stone  Porcelain. 

370.  American  Ironstone  China. 

JONES,  H.  Bolton. 

371.  Spring,  near  Orange,  N.  J. 

Born  in  Baltimore.  Ranks  among  the  best  American  landscapists.  Has  resided  in  Europe  for  several 
years.  Has  painted  a number  of  valuable  works. 


I yq  Treniont  street,  Boston. 
Bergen  Point,  N.  J. 

Trenton,  X.  J. 

226  Fifth  az'enne,  Xczv  York. 


JOHNSTON,  John  B. 

372.  Landscape  and  Cattle. 

373.  Orchard  Pasture. 

( Iwned  by  Thomas  Wigglesworth,  Boston 

JONI'IS,  Allister  S. 

374.  Wood  Interior. 


lyq  Treniont  street.  Boston. 


Boston. 


375- 


JENKINS,  Miss  E.  R. 
Still  Life. 


Boston. 


JOHNSON,  Marshall,  Jr. 

12  West  street,  Boston. 

376. 

The  Departure. 

JAMES,  Nellie  F. 

./p  Warren  avenue,  Boston. 

377- 

Flower-de-Luce. 

378. 

Bric-a-Brac. 

JACOUE,  Charles. 

379- 

Autumn  Landscape  and  Sheep. 

From  collection  of  John  A.  Brown, 

JOARDAN,  A. 

Esq.,  Providence,  R.  1. 

380. 

Reveries. 

From  collection  of  John  A.  Brown,  Esq.,  Providence,  R.  1. 

JUDKINS,  Eliza  Maria. 

20  Dunster  street,  Cambridge,  Mass. 

381. 

The  Lily  Cross. 

382. 

The  Cornet. 

JOHNSON,  Mary  E. 

ijj  Warren  street,  Roxbury,  Mass. 

383- 

Hollyhock  Panel. 

JONGKIND,  J.  B. 

384- 

Harbor  of  Plonfleur. 

From  collection  of  B.  Wall,  Esq.,  Providence,  R.  I. 


385.  JAPANESE  KAKEMONOS.  The  First  Japanese  Mannfactnring  and 

Trading  Company,  Xew  York. 


i. 

Birds  and  Rock,  by  IPPO. 

7- 

Stag  by  the  Stream,  by  Kansai. 

2. 

Birds,  by  ROSETSU. 

8. 

Fusiyama  from  Sea,  by  TOVOHIKO. 

3- 

A I'igure,  by  VoSHIN. 

9- 

Winter,  by  KoYO. 

4- 

Landscape,  by  SansetsU. 

10. 

Fowls,  by  MitENOKI. 

5- 

Autumn,  by  Korin, 

1 1. 

Birds,  by  Baytsu. 

6. 

Moonlight,  by  Gantai. 

12. 

Birds,  by  BUNCHO. 

KENDRICK,  D.  T. 

Studio  Building,  Boston. 

386. 

Portrait. 

KING,  Evax  a. 

/p  Marian  street,  E.  Boston. 

387.  Portrait  of  Child. 

KNAUS,  Louis. 

388.  Head. 

I'rom  collection  of  John  Brown,  Esq.,  Providence,  R.  I. 

KOWALSKI. 

389.  Scouting  Party. 

From  collection  of  J.  II.  Congdon,  Esq.,  Providence,  R.  I. 

KENNICOTT,  Mrs.  M.  A.  Chieago,  III. 

390.  Elowers  and  I’ruit. 

391.  The  Battle  is  Not  Always  to  the  Strong. 

392.  Raspberries. 

393.  May  in  the  Alleghanies. 


i6q  Trcniont  street,  Host  on. 


KXOVVLTON,  Aliss  Helen 

M’.  i6q  Treniont  street,  Boston. 

394- 

October  Afternoon, 

395- 

Roman  Woman. 

396. 

W illow  Road. 

Studied  with  T.  M.  J.  Johnston,  Dr.  Riminer,  and  Wni.  M.  Hunt.  .Author  of  “ Hints  to  Pupils,”  compiler 

of  ■*  Hunt’s  Talks  on  Art.”  Inhibited 

in  all  the  principal  national  collections. 

RtATZ,  Daniel. 

South  B>cnd,  Ind. 

397- 

Autumn  in  Indiana. 

LANDHR,  Benjamin. 

74  John  street,  Xe%v  York. 

39^^- 

The  Sheep  Pasture. 

399- 

Through  the  Trees. 

400. 

Partegat  Pond. 

LANSIL,  W alter  F. 

Dorehester,  Alass. 

401. 

The  Midnight  Arrival. 

Native  of  Maine.  Member  of  Art  Club 

Government.  Exhibited  in  the  National  Academy,  silver  medals. 

1878,  and  ’81  ; highest  award  at  Mass. 

Charitable  Mechanics’  Association. 

LAUBER,  Jos. 

^ Fifth  street,  Xezu  York. 

402. 

Head  of  an  Old  Man. 

LINFORD,  Charles. 

403. 

Autumn. 

LATOUCHE,  Lewis. 

Paris. 

404. 

Marine. 

From  collection  of  B.  Wall,  Esq.,  Providence,  R.  1. 

EAMBINIfT. 

405- 

Landscape. 

From  the  collection  of  John  .V.  Brown,  Esq.,  Providence,  R.  1. 

LAWd^LNCE,  Jenny. 

Boston. 

406. 

Louis  Agassiz. 

LYON,  W'lLLIAM  P. 

Cranford,  X.  J. 

407. 

Apples. 

408. 

Grapes. 

LENT,  Lrank  T. 

Studio,  Fast  Tzventy-third  street,  Xezu  York. 

409. 

Harvesting. 

410. 

A Winter  Day. 

41  I. 

A Lowland  Bit. 

Born  in  New  York  City,  1S55.  First  ex.,  N.  .\.  D.,  1880;  Salon,  Paris,  1882.  — lulitor  of  Ttu'  Sludio. 


LATHROP,  Airs.  Rosa  Hawthorne.  Boston. 

412.  Grapes. 

LIPPINCOTT,  \Vm.  II.  Xczv  York. 

413.  Milking  Time. 

Born  in  Philadelphia.  Studied  under  Bonnat.  Exhibited  in  Salon  of  1878  and  Paris  Pixposition. 


Philadelphia,  Pa. 


LAUDERBACH,  James  W. 


414. 

Engravings. 

EOVliWELL,  Rominer. 

Walnut  street,  Chelsea,  Mass. 

415- 

A Quiet  Evening. 

f 

416. 

A Spar  Yard,  East  Boston. 

417. 

(31d  Vessels  at  East  Boston. 

418. 

A Ship  Yard  at  East  Boston. 

LA  CROIX,  Geo.  J. 

Cambridge,  Mass. 

419. 

Longfellow’s  Wayside  Inn. 

420. 

Tired  Out. 

LITTLE,  Philip. 

Pelham  Studios,  Boston. 

421. 

Mother  and  Daughter. 

422. 

On  the  Marshes. 

The  latter  the  properly  of  Thomas  Mack,  Ifscj. 

I EGANGER,  N.  T. 

lyg  Tremont  street,  Boston. 

423- 

Summer  in  the  Woods,  Adirondacks. 

424. 

Portrait  of  a Child. 

425. 

June. 

426. 

The  Charmer. 

427. 

Head  of  Child. 

LITTLEEIELD,  CiiAS.  M. 

428. 

Photographs. 

EANGERFELDT,  T.  O. 

Boston. 

429. 

Otter  Cliffs,  Mount  Desert. 

L(3T1IR0P,  D.  & CO.,  Publishers  of  “ Wide  A 

wake.”  Franklin  street,  Boston. 

430. 

Proof  Impressions  of  \Wod  Engraving  ( 

25)- 

431- 

Illustrated  Works  (10). 

432. 

Original  Drawings  (20). 

LEIGHTON,  Scott. 

Winter  street,  Boston. 

433- 

Mare  and  Colt. 

LOVGEI-:,  M.  L. 

Warren  Place,  Roxbury,  Mass. 

434- 

Winter  Scene. 

435- 

Twin  Belknaps. 

LINTON,  Hobart. 

Boston. 

436. 

In  Clover. 

MI'^AD,  Larkin  G.  • Florence,  Italy. 

437.  Snow  Angel. 

Lucius  G.  Pratt,  owner. 

Native  of  Brattleboro,  Vt.  Lived  in  Florence  since  1S62.  The  “Snow  Angel”  was  sculptured  in  snow  by 
Mr.  Mead  when  a boy.  Mas  sculptured  some  of  the  most  important  statues  now  existing  in  America. 
The  most  noted  being  that  of  Lincoln,  for  Springfield,  111. 


Paris. 


MEDARD,  E. 

438.  At  Longban,  19  January,  1871. 

MacGILLORAY,  1831. 

439.  Pair  Chaffinches. 

|os.  M.  Wade,  owner,  Boston. 

MILLER,  E.  106  Spring  street,  E.  Cambridge,  Mass. 

440.  Emit. 

441.  Eamily  Cares. 

McLEAN,  C.  E.  A.  Glastonbury,  Conn. 

442.  Larkspur. 

443.  Milk-weed. 

M()RSE,  Marian  Frances.  Columbia  street,  Dorehester,  Mass. 

444.  Roses. 

445.  Snow  Scene. 

446.  In  the  Alleghanies. 

MENARD,  H.  M. 

447.  Painting. 

MARTIN,  L.  Edna.  ipo  Tremont  street,  Boston. 

448.  Flowers. 

449- 

450. 

451- 

452. 

MERROW,  C.  E.  A.  Boston. 

453.  Crayons  and  Colored  Portraits. 

MINOR,  R.  C.  University  Building,  Ncio  York. 

454.  The  Mill. 

Born  in  New  York;  studied  under  Diaz,  t’an  Luppen,  and  Boulanger. 

MICHEL,  E.  B. 

455.  Cloudy  Day. 

From  the  collection  of  John  Brown,  Esq.,  Providence,  R.  I. 

MADRACO,  R. 

456.  Water  Carriers. 

From  the  collection  of  J.  II.  Congdon,  Esq.,  Providence,  R.  I. 

ALA.N,  Cabriee. 

457.  Head. 

From  the  collection  of  (dren  Westcott,  Esq.,  Providence,  R.  I.  One  of  the  most  prominent  members  of  the 
Munich  School. 

McCORD,  CEO.  H. 

The  Market  Place. 

Where  the  Swallows  Skim. 


458. 

459- 


MEYER,  Constant. 
460.  An  Idyl 


New  York. 


McLEAN,  N.  Wallace.  Boston. 

461.  The  Champion. 

462.  Old  Echo  Chimney. 

463.  Gray  Day  on  a Country  Road. 

464.  Pooling  Haunts. 

465.  Early  Dawn. 

466.  Pond  Lily. 

McAULIEFE,  James  J. 

467.  Sunset  Down  the  Bay. 

468.  In  the  Bay  of  Fundy. 

469.  Fishing  Boat  Coming  Home. 

MORSE,  Miss  Alice. 

470.  Pansies. 

471.  Vase. 

MAYNARD,  Rene. 

Landscape. 

From  collection  of  B.  Wall,  Esq.,  I'rovidence,  R.  1. 

MACY,  Fanny  M.  Nantnckct,  Mass. 

Old  Man. 

Girl’s  Head. 

Brook  Path. 

MASON,  Wm.  a.  Cambridge,  Mass. 

476.  The  Poem. 

MORAN,  Thomas.  A.  N.  A.  i66  IV.  Fifty-fifth  street,  New  York. 

477.  Etching. 

MONKS,  J.  A.  S.  16  W.  Bzaenty-third  street,  Nezv  York. 

478.  Feeding  Sheep. 

McLaughlin,  M.  Louise.  Chapel  street,  Walnut  Hills,  Cineinnati,  O. 

479.  The  New  Book. 

480.  Head. 

MOORE,  Charles  E.  12  Walpole  street,  Roxbury,  Mass. 

481.  Church  of  Santa  Maria  della  Saluta. 


472. 


473- 

474- 

475- 


Boston. 


Boston. 


MOONEY,  Ell.'\.  Upper  Red  Hook,  New  York. 

482.  Peonies. 

MAGEE  ART  CASTING  CO. 

483.  Art  Castings. 


Chelsea,  Mass. 


Diisseldorf. 


MUNTIIK,  L. 

484.  The  Last  (ilcam, 

MALhXKI,  \V.  Berlin. 

485.  Algerian  Camp. 

MASSACHUSETTS  NORMAL  ART  SCHOOL,  Otto  Fuchs,  Principal. 

486.  East  Alcove. 

Estahli^hed  by  an  act  of  the  Legislature  in  the  year  1872.  It  is  governed  by  the  State  Hoard  of  Eiluca- 
tion.  Ilis  Excellency  the  tTOvernor,  chairman.  Under  the  direction  of  a Board  of  Visitors,  Rev.  .V.  Miner, 
chairman.  Object  of  the  school:  To  educate  and  train  teachers  of  industrial  drawing.  Number  of  students, 
about  120.  The  school  is  divided  into  four  classes,  ,V,  B,  C,  and  I),  each  representing  one  year. 

CHARACTER  OF  WORK  IN  EACH  CLAS.S  : 

First  year. — Elementary  drawing,  free-hand  and  instrumental. 

B.  Second  year.  — Form,  color,  and  industrial  design.  Painting  in  oil  and  water-color. 

C.  Third  year.  — The  constructive  arts.  Descriptive  geometry,  architecture,  machine,  ship  and  topograph- 

ical drawing.  Designing. 

D.  Fourth  year. — Sculpture  and  design  in  the  round.  Modeling  and  casting. 

The  works  exhibited  show  the  curriculum  of  studies  in  the  school  and  also  the  manipulative  skill  of  the 
students  at  the  various  stages  of  their  work.  Tliey  are  classed  as  follows  : 

Class  A. 

Xos.  I to  4. — Instrumental  drawing. 

5 to  8. — Outline  object  drawing. 

9 to  II. — Light  and  shade  drawing. 

12  to  14. — Color  and  design. 

Class  B. 

. Xos.  15. — Advanced  perspective. 

16  to  21. — Water-color  painting  of  flowers,  landscapes,  still-life,  and  portraits  from  life. 

22  to  25. — Drawing  of  human  figure  from  life  and  cast,  anatomy,  bones  and  muscles. 

26  to  30. — Time  sketches,  in  charcoal,  water-color  and  oil,  of  still-life  groups,  antique  heads,  and  portraits 
from  life. 

31  to  39. — Certificate  works  in  oil. 

40  to  44. — Applied  designs  of  textile  fabrics  and  interior  decorations. 

Class  C. 

Xos.  45  to  47. — Descriptive  geometry.  Projection  of  shadows  and'  screws. 

48  to  50. — Machine  drawings  from  copy,  measurements  and  details. 

51  to  54. — Design  of  building,  structural  details.  Building  from  measurement  and  ancient  styles  of 
architecture. 

55.  — Ship  draughting,  construction. 

56.  — Topographical  drawing,  mapping. 

57  to  62. — Designs  for  ornamentation  of  buildings  and  furniture. 

Class  D. 

Xo.  63. — Historical  ornament  from  the  cast. 

64.  — Study  of  ornament  from  flat  copy. 

65.  — Design  for  a capital,  original. 

66.  — Model  of  flowers  from  nature. 

67.  — Portrait  head  from  nature. 

68.  — Bas-relief  from  antique  figure. 

69.  — Anatomical  rendering  of  antique  figure. 

70.  — Model  in  relief.  Human  head  from  a drawing. 

71.  — Bust  from  the  antique. 

72.  — Human  figure  in  relief  from  life. 

73.  — Cast  from  nature:  human  hand. 

74.  — Cast  from  nature:  fruit. 

75.  — Cast  from  a piece  mold,  sulphur  and  gelatine  mold  from  students’  own  works. 

76  to  81. — Designs  to  be  executed  in  the  round. 


London,  Eng. 


487. 


NORTON,  W.  E. 

Normandy  Coast. 


Property  of  John  A.  Lowell. 


NICOEE,  J.  C. 

488.  Building  an  Elevator. 

5/  IE.  loth  street.  New  York. 

NORRIS,  Miss  Caroline  T. 

489.  Capture,  Hebrew  Family. 

go  Florence  street.  East  Somerville. 

NUTTING,  Benjamin  E. 

490.  Dish  of  Vegetables. 

491.  Corner  of  Studio. 

492.  Spring. 

493.  Autumn. 

494.  Mad  River  Valley. 

Boston. 

NATT,  Phebe  D. 

495.  Auld  Robin  Gray. 

496.  Married  for  Eove. 

Philadelphia. 

NORSIb,  Stansbury. 

497.  The  Industrious  I'isherman. 

337  Fourth  avenue,  Neiu  York. 

498. 


499. 


500. 


;oi. 


Born  August,  1847.  Studied  with  M.  S.  Bloodgood. 

NESMITH,  Howard  M.  South  street,  Nezo  York. 

Opening  of  the  New  York  and  Brooklyn  Bridge,  May  24,  1883. 


NOA,  Miss  Alwina. 
Portrait. 

NOA,  Mrs.  Jessie. 
Portrait. 


Irivin  Bnilding,  Tremont  street,  Boston. 

Tirniont  street,  Boston. 
Stndio  Bnilding,  Boston. 


ORDWAY,  Alerei). 

Zord. 

Founder  of  the  Boston  Art  Club.  Ills  works  are  in  some  of  the  best  collections  in  America. 


ONTHANK,  N.  B. 

502.  Golden  Eocks. 

503.  Portrait. 


O’BRIEN,  Thomas  J. 

504.  Annapolis  Valley,  N.  S. 


PIERCE,  Charles  F. 

505.  Autumn  Birches. 

PUTNAM,  Geo.  W. 

506.  Cottage  Scene. 


Studied  in  Europe. 


Boston. 


6j  Broomfield  street,  Boston. 


12  Jlest  street,  Boston. 


ly  Nelson  Square,  Lynn. 


507- 


Pin'ERSON,  Geo.  D. 
Plaster  Bust. 


.a  Park  street,  Boston. 


PITMAN,  Mira  M.  Somerville,  Mass. 

508.  Flowers. 

P0PF2,  Walter  I'.  616  Washington  street,  Boston. 

509.  Ellis  River,  Andover,  Me. 

POWERS,  Preston.  Florenee,  Italy. 

510.  Evangeline. 

511.  Model  Hand. 

Born  in  Florence,  1843.  Pupil  of  his  father,  Hiram  Powers.  His  work^  are  many  ami  show  characteristics, 
original  and  idealistic.  His  bust  ol  Oarfield,  a commission  from  Mrs.  ( larfield,  is  perhaps  one  of  his 
best  productions. 

PlvTERSON,  H.  E.  C.  i lo  Dearborn  street,  Chieago,  III. 

512.  The  Young  Student. 

513.  In  the  Woods. 

iTor. 

514.  Head. 

f rom  collection  of  John  A.  Brown,  E.s(|.,  Providence,  R.  I. 

PLAT!',  George  \Y  70  Monroe  street,  Chieago,  III. 


515- 

Vase  and  Fruit. 

516. 

Melon  and  Grapes. 

PERKINS,  Granville. 

y8  iCest  syth  street,  Nezv  York. 

517- 

Morning  in  the  Tropics. 

518. 

Evening. 

519. 

Mount  Washington. 

520. 

Scene  at  Asbtiry  Park,  N.  J. 

521. 

A Tornado  in  Cuba. 

522. 

Mountain  Torrent. 

PLUMB,  H.  G. 

Sherburne,  N.  T. 

5^3- 

What  is  That  ? 

524. 

Eresh  from  the  Well. 

PYNE,  R.  E. 

J ijj  Broadioay,  Nezo  York. 

5-5- 

A Winter  Sunset. 

526. 

A Winter  IWening. 

PHILLIPS,  John. 

Leland  Hotel,  Chieago. 

to 

Portrait. 

PIERCE,  H.  Winthrop. 

Rez’ere,  Mass. 

528. 

The  Summer  of  St.  Martin. 

PARTRIDGE,  E.  J.  & W.  H. 
529.  Photographs, 


Boston. 


530. 


PIKE,  Robert  P:. 
Pen  Work. 


PLATT,  C.  A. 

531.  Street  at  Honfleur,  France. 

PARRISH,*Steitien. 

532.  Drifting. 

PP5 ARSON,  Hiram  S. 

533.  Farm  Yard. 

PHELPS,  W.  P. 

534.  Winter  Landscape. 

OUIMBY,  Ralph  A. 

535.  Hooded  Merganser. 

536.  Snipe. 

537.  Red-Breasted  Merganser. 


868  Broadivay , New  York. 
/ ? Chestnut  street,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 

Past  Poston. 

Loivell,  Mass. 

Boston. 


RPA'NOLDS,  Georop:.  i yp  Lewis  street.  New  York. 

538.  Hearth  and  Home.  A New  York  Tenement. 

539.  Haunted. 

540.  Hr.  Francis’  Old  New  York. 


RUPER'P,  A.  G.  Chicago,  III. 

541.  In  the  Studio. 

ROBINSON,  W.  T.  Malden,  Mass. 

542.  Game. 

543.  Game. 

544.  Mount  Washington. 


RONDELL,  P'.,  Sr.  A.  N.  A.  I2g8  Broadzvay,  Nezo  York. 

545.  Old  Orchard  at  Newport,  R.  I. 

546.  View  on  the  Bronx,  near  New  York. 

Boi'ii  in  Paris,  France,  1825.  .Studied  with  Monsieur  fugelet,  Tlieo.  (iudirs.  Marine  painter  to  Louis  I’liilippe, 
at  the  fiobelins  and  at  the  Beaux  .Arts.  Came  to  .America  1853. 


RICE,  Henry  W. 

547.  A Summer  Afternoon. 

548.  Morning  and  PI  veiling. 

RA.MSPIY,  Milne. 

549.  Beer. 

550.  Champagne. 

551.  Hot  Grog. 

552.  Sherry  and  Cake. 

RYDER,  Albert  P. 

553.  Landscape. 


Boston. 


Ip2^  Chestnut  street,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 


80  E.  Washington  Square,  New  York. 


554- 


RYDER,  John  S. 

554.  The  Coming  Storm. 

7 7 Windsor  street,  Koxbnry,  Mass. 

ROOT,  Enoch. 

555.  San  Georgio,  Venice. 

^8iJ  Mie/iigan  avenue,  Chicago,  III. 

ROBINSON,  Edward  J. 

^56.  Landscape,  Sunset  effects. 

Bnckinghani  street,  Boston. 

RllhT-iS,  M.  J.,  Jr. 

557.  John  Bull. 

5:;  8.  A Young  Shaver. 

Dorchester,  Mass. 

RICHARDS,  E.  De  Bourh. 

559.  Bear  Creek  Canon,  Colorado. 

1^20  Chestnut  street,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 

RAYMOND,  E.  Lannitz. 

560.  June. 

561.  English  Primroses. 

Brick  Chnrch,  N.  J. 

ROBINSON,  Theodore. 

562.  Nantucket  Shepherd  Boy. 

Boston,  formerly  of  Nciv  York. 

RUSSELL,  In  A G. 

563.  P'lower  Picture. 

Annandale,  N.  ]\ 

RASCH,  H.  Miuiich. 

564.  Starnberg  Lake  Costume,  Seventeenth  Century. 

ROBINSON,  S.  M.  Boston. 

565.  Collection  of  Designs. 

ROWK,  Nan'CV  B.  Ballai'dvale,  Mass. 

566.  View  on  Lake  Superior.  After  Briscoe. 


567.  Old  Homestead  on  Staten  Island. 

From  sketch  by  Perkins. 

RITCHIE,  G.  W.  H. 

568.  From  Under  the  Trees. 

569.  Near  New  Utrecht. 

570.  Portrait  of  Robert  Browning. 

I op  Liberty  street,  Nezo  ]ork. 

ROBINSON,  Tom. 

571.  Stream  Woodfort,  YT. 

572.  Ox  Plowing. 

573.  Cow  and  Calf 

Providence,  R.  I. 

Born  in  Nova  Scotia,  1835.  .Studied  under  Courbet,  and  instructed  by  .\ugust  Bonheur.  Member  of  the 
Centennial  Art  Exposition.  One  of  the  strongest  cattle  painters  of  America. 

RICHET,  L. 

574.  Figure  and  Landscape. 

E'rom  collection  of  John  A.  Brown,  Esq.,  Providence,  R.  1. 


ROUSSEAU. 

575.  Landscape. 

From  collection  of  John  A.  Brown,  Esq.,  Providence,  R.  I. 

REAM,  Morston.  New  York. 

576.  Emit  and  Wine. 

RICHARDS,  T.  Addison.  National  Academy  Design. 

577.  A Summer  Shower. 

578.  Sunrise  on  the  Delaware. 

Twenty-third  .street  and  Fourth  avenue.  New  York. — B.  London,  1820.  Studied  in  N.  A.  1).,  New  York, 
1843-1847.  F'irst  ex.,  N.  A.  D.,  1846.  Fllected  A.  N.  1S48;  N.  A.,  1851.  Secretary  of  N.  A.  D. 
from  1852  to  the  present  time.  F'irst  Director  of  Cooper  Union  School  of  Art  for  Women,  1858-1860. 
Professor  of  Art  in  the  University  of  New  York  since  1867.  Author  of  a number  of  art  works. 


ROTThiNHAMMER,  Hans.  Munich. 

579.  Susanna  and  the  Elders. 

Owned  by  H.  P.  Leonard,  Esq.,  Boston. 

SWORD,  James  B.  1520  Chestnut  street,  Philadelphia. 

580.  Champlain  Valley. 

581.  Summer  Morning  on  Conanicut  Island. 

Pupil  of  Wm.  T.  Richards,  Philapelphia.  F'irst  ex.,  N.  A.  D.,  1863.  President  Philadelphia  Society  of  Artists.  . 


STEVENS,  Alice  B.  Boston. 

582.  Wild  Raspberry. 

583.  Roses. 

SONNTAG,  Wm.  Louis,  Jr.  120  E.  Tzucnty-sccond  street,  New  York. 

584.  Study  of  an  Old  Barn. 

STETSON,  Charles  Walter.  Providence,  R.  I. 

585.  Great  Meadow,  Blomidon  Grand-Pre,  N.  S. 

586.  Girls  at  Play. 

587.  Allegro. 

SHEFEIELD,  F.  New  York. 

588.  On  the  Canal. 

SARTAIN,  William,  A.  N.  A.  752  W.  Fifty-seventh  street,  Nezv  York. 

589.  The  Road  to  the  P'arm. 

590.  Sandy  Land  near  the  Sea.  Near  the  north  shore,  Nonquitte. 

Born  in  Philadelphia,  Pa.  Pupil  of  Pennsylvania  Academy  of  Fine  Arts,  Philadelphia.  Leon  Bonnat  and 
I'Ecole  des  Beaux  Arts,  Paris.  First  ex..  Royal  Academy,  London,  1875;  N.  A.  D.,  1876;  A.  N.  A., 
1880.  Professor  in  Art  .Students’ League.  Silver  Medal  1881,  Massachusetts  Charitable  Association.  Ex. 
London,  Vienna,  and  Munich. 

SCHELL,  P'red.  B.  j20  Walnut  street,  Philadelphia. 

591.  Sketches  from  Nature. 

592.  Illustrations  for  Picturesque  Canada. 

593.  Illustrations  for  Picturesque  Canada. 


j3  E.  Tzvcnty -third  street,  Eheiv  York. 


STORY,  Geo.  H.  A.  N.  A. 

594.  Portrait  of  Colonel  Rich  Lathers. 

595-  Where  Ignorance  is  Bliss  'Tis  I'olly  to  be  Wise. 


Born  in  New  Haven,  Ct.,  1835.  Studied  in  Europe.  State  medal  of  Maine.  lias  painted  some  strong  por- 


traits  ; is  among  tlie  best  colorists  of  .tmerica. 

SPREAD,  H.  V. 

1 10  Dearborn  street,  Chieago,  III. 

596. 

A Joyous  Afternoon. 

SPIAWJ  Annie  C. 

3.j.oy  Vernon  avenne,  Chieago,  III. 

597- 

Afternoon. 

STUART,  Frederick  T. 

42  Court  street,  Hoston. 

598. 

Meadows,  South  Windsor,  Conn. 

599- 

Windsor  J^'armer’s  Cottage,  Conn. 

STITTS,  J.  R. 

72  East  Twenty -third  street.  New  York. 

600. 

The  I'irst  Days  of  April. 

S M E P P A R D , \\' A R R E N . 

281  Ninth  street,  Brooklyn,  N.  L. 

601. 

A Warm  Night. 

Born  at  Greenwich,  N.  J.,  1855.  .Studied  under  Professor  llertzberg. 

SCHILLING,  Alex. 

Ashland  JUoek,  Chieago,  III. 

602. 

The  Daisy-topped  Ilill-side. 

603. 

PIvening  in  the  Marshes. 

SANBORN,  C.  V. 

Bible  House,  Third  avenne.  New  York. 

604. 

Study  of  a Head. 

605. 

Portrait. 

606. 

Salt  Meadows. 

SOUTHWICK,  Jean  IE  Lea. 

6 Home  street,  lYoreester,  Mass. 

607. 

A Pitcher  I'ull. 

608. 

Behind  a Cloud. 

609. 

Down  the  Hill-side. 

610. 

Yellow  I'leur-de-Lis. 

61 1. 

Jersey  Marshes. 

SWAIN,  H.  J. 

60  Winthrop  street,  Roxbnry,  Mass. 

612. 

Painting. 

SHANNON,  Miss  Mattie  A. 

Hyde  Park,  Mass. 

613. 

Southern  Magnolias. 

614. 

SOULE  PHOTOGRAPH  CO. 

SIMMONS,  G.  J. 

Ihston. 

615. 

Metalized  Plaster. 

STEWART,  J.  L, 

Paris. 

616. 

The  Proposal. 

SMITH,  H.  P. 

Neiv  York. 

617. 

Brigantine  Shoals,  Jersey  Coast. 

618. 

Moonlight. 

SCHLIECH,  R, 

Munich. 

619. 

The  River  Iser,  Twilight. 

STEPHENS,  George  Frank. 

1 1 j6  Girard  street,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 

620. 

Portrait  Bust  of  John  Casain,  Esq. 

SHEARS,  Mrs.  L.  D. 

16  E.  Tzventy -third  street,  Xezv  York. 

621. 

Castle  of  Chillon. 

622. 

Screen,  Rocky  Point. 

STAIGG,  R.  M. 

623. 

Portrait,  W.  Allston. 

From  collection  of  John  A.  Brown,  Esq.,  Providence,  R.  I. 


SCHEAFFER,  Arv. 

624.  Original  Suggestion  for  Painting,  long  in  the  Luxembourg,  now  in  the 

Louvre  — Suliote  Women. 

From  collection  of  B.  Wall,  Esq.,  Providence,  R.  I. 

SHIRLAW,  Walter. 

625.  Peggy. 

SANDERSON,  C.  W.  ^ Mt.  Vernon  street,  Voston. 

626.  Vermont  Intervale. 

627.  Llano  Water,  Salisbury,  Vermont. 

628.  Willows,  on  the  Merrimac,  Methuen. 

Native  of  A^ermont.  Studied  in  London  and  in  Paris.  Pupil  of  Boulanger  and  Eefevre. 

SHURTLEFF,  R.  M.  A.  N.  A.  j8  West  Fifty-seventJi  street,  Nexo  York. 

629.  In  the  Wild  Wood. 

B.  New  Hampshire.  First  ex.,  N.  A.  1).,  1872;  A.  N.  A.,  1881. 

.SHELTON,  W.  H.  / Union  Square,  Nexv  York. 

630.  Artillery  Sergeant. 

STOKES,  M.  Chelsea,  Mass. 

63  I . Portrait. 

ST.  JOHN,  S.  H. 

632.  Waiting. 


SEARS,  Charles  Payne. 
633.  Navesink  Woods. 


Atlantic  Highlands,  N.  J. 


Maple  avchiic,  Ihston. 


SHEPLIE,  Miss  Carrie  E. 

634.  View  in  Day’s  Woods. 

635.  Vdew  near  Mount  Wdllard. 

636.  Child* 

637.  Dog. 

SHURTLEEE,  R.  M. 

638.  The  Meadows. 

639.  Sunset,  Otter  Creek,  Vt. 

TRACY,  John  M. 

640.  I'ox  Terriers. 


TRYON,  C. 

641.  Eandscape  and  Sheep. 

From  collection  of  R.  Wall,  I'Nq.,  Providence,  R.  1. 


TURNER,  C.  II. 

642.  Portrait  of  William  Vv’arren. 

12  West  street,  Pwstou. 

TATNAEE,  W.  E. 

643.  Outdoor  Sketch. 

Wilmington,  Del. 

TP:EE,  George  A. 

644.  lingraving,  Gray’s  l£leg}’. 

Poston. 

THURSTON,  Eanny  R. 

645.  Under  the  Wdllow. 

iVezo  London,  Conn. 

646.  Morning  Glories. 

TP:WKSBURY,  Miss  Eannv  W’. 

647.  Wisteria. 

648.  Rocks  at  Magnolia. 

Neivton  -i  'illc,  M ass. 

649.  Beach  at  Ocean  Spray,  Winthr 

650.  The  Willow  Path. 

op. 

THOMPSON,  Jerome. 

651.  Child  with  Pet  Lamb. 

ACiu  York. 

TROTTER,  Newboli)  H. 

652.  Jersey  Beauties. 

653.  September. 

654.  Lion  and  Lioness. 

ij20  Chestnut  street,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 

TRYON,  S.  J. 

655.  Oak  Trees. 

Hotel  Pelham,  Poston. 

THOMPSON,  Albert. 

656.  Cerney  la  V^ille,  Ph'ance. 

Wobniii,  Mass. 

Boston. 


TUCKER,  Miss  Rubv. 


657. 

Painting. 

THE  CENTURY  CO. 

658. 

Original  Drawings. 

I . 

Meeting  of  the  Salmagundi  Club. 

H.  P.  Share. 

2 

Red-Horse  Inn  Yard. 

Jos.  Pennell. 

J- 

Yard  of  Plow  Hotel. 

Jos.  Pennell. 

4- 

Vista  View  at  Oak  Knoll. 

Homer  Martin. 

5- 

Tile  Club  Sketches. 

C.  S.  Reinhart. 

6. 

The  Brotherhood.  ( St.  Nicholas.) 

W.  P.  Smedley. 

7- 

Tom  Meets  the  Wandering  Jew.  ( St.  Nicholas.) 

A.  Brennan. 

8. 

The  Bathing  Beach. 

R.  Swain  Gifford. 

9- 

Flight  of  the  Countess.  ( St.  Nicholas.) 

R.  B.  Bircfi. 

10. 

Picnic  Lunch. 

A.  C.  Redwood. 

1 1. 

Indians  Hunting  Wild  Sheep. 

J.  Bolles. 

1 2. 

An  Indian  Village. 

H.  F.  Farny. 

13- 

Our  Grandmother’s  School-house. 

P'rancis  Lathrop. 

14. 

Seizing  British  Arms. 

PI  A.  Abbey. 

15- 

Diversion  in  the  Cloister. 

S.  W.  Van  Schaick 

16. 

On  Long  Island. 

R.  Swain  Gifford. 

17- 

Old  Half- Wall  Fence. 

R.  Blum. 

18. 

Afloat  on  the  Ice. 

Henry  Sandham. 

19. 

Fish  Houses  at  Rocky  Neck. 

Stephen  Parrish. 

20. 

Most  Ancient  Part  of  Holborn. 

C.  A.  Vanderhoof. 

21. 

Bathing  at  Coney  Island. 

R.  Blum. 

22. 

Among  the  Docks. 

C.  A.  Vanderhoof. 

23- 

A Seaside  Homestead. 

Alfred  Parsons. 

24. 

Master  Self.  (St.  Nicholas.) 

R.  B.  Birch. 

25- 

Brookbank  (where  George  Eliot  once  lived). 

Harry  P'enn. 

26. 

One  P'rame  containing  four  proofs  from  St.  Nicholas. 

ULRICH,  Charles  F.  Broadzvay,  Nczu  York. 

659.  An  Amateur  Etcher. 

Owned  by  Thomas  B.  Clarke,  New  York  City.  B.  New  York,  185S.  Pupil  of  Loefftz  and  Lindenschmidt 
in  Munich.  Eirst  ex.,  Diisseldorf,  1880;  N.  A.  D.,  1882. 

U ELMAN,  Nath.an.  2jp  East  Fiftieth  street,  New  York. 

660.  Fruit. 

VOLKMAR,  Charles. 

661.  A Family  of  Quacks. 

662.  Home  to  the  Fold. 

Pupil  of  Harpignies.  Exhibited  in  Salon  several  years 
Charcoal  Club. 

VFAZIF,  Anne  G.  Rzitland,  Vt. 


663. 

Painting  on  Glass. 

664. 

Neapolitan  Boy. 

665. 

Cupid  and  Psyche. 

Treniont,  New  York. 


Vice  President  Salmagundi  Club,  President 


VON  BOSKERCK,  R.  W. 
656.  Jersey  Lowlands. 


5<?  [Prs/  Fifty -seventh  street,  New  York. 


VON  HILLERN,  Bertha. 

Strasbiirg,  Va. 

667. 

Woods  Near  Mt.  Oliv^e,  Virginia. 

668. 

Shenandoah  Valley. 

669. 

Virginia  Interior. 

670. 

Oak  Valley,  Shenandoah. 

VILLIERS,  Charles. 

Boston. 

671. 

P'lorence,  Daughter  of  E.  Eutvoye. 

672. 

Interior  Residence  of  G.  A.  Alden,  Esq. 

673- 

Ideal  Head. 

674. 

Henry  Irvdng. 

VORCE  & CO.,  A.  D. 

Hartford,  Conn. 

675. 

Collection  of  Chinese  and  Japanese  Porcelain  and  Antiq 

VON  BREMEN,  Meyer. 

Lie  Bric-a-Brac. 

676. 

Paring  Apples. 

From  collection  of  John  A.  Brown,  Esq.,  Providence,  R.  I. 


VAN  MARCKE. 

677.  Landscape  and  Cattle. 

From  collection  of  John  A.  Brown,  Esq.,  Providence,  R.  I. 

VOSE,  Sarah  M. 

678.  Poppies. 

679.  Astrachan  Apples. 

WEEKS,  E.  L. 

680.  Arab  Encampment. 

From  collection  of  John  A.  Brown,  Esq.,  Providence,  R.  1. 

W ATE  LIN. 

681.  Landscape  and  Cattle. 

From  collection  of  John  A.  Brown,  Esq.,  Providence,  R.  I. 

WENTWORTH,  Margaret.  East  Bridgezvater,  Mass. 

682.  Scotch  Landscape. 

WINN,  Susie  A.  Arlington,  Mass. 

683.  Oscar. 

684.  Little  Polly  P. 

WILSON,  Alexander.  Boston. 

685.  Duck  Hawk. 

Jos.  M.  W.ide,  owner. 

WHITTIER,  Gertrude  E.  26  Regent  street,  Boston  Highlands. 

Water  Lilies. 

Roses. 


686. 

687. 


688. 

689- 

690. 

691. 

692. 


WEBER,  Otis  S. 

Alcferian  Pirates  Attacking  a Merchantman. 


WEBBER,  C.  T. 
Portrait. 


WARD,  Charles  M. 

IWening,  Charles  River. 

Moonrise,  Lynn  Beach. 

Sketch  from  Nature,  Whitehead,  Cohasset. 


Cambridge,  Mass. 
Cincinnati,  O. 
//.op  Washington  street,  Boston,  Mass. 


E.  Twenty-third  street.  New  York. 


WYANT,  A.  H.  N.  A. 

693.  View  near  the  Hudson. 

Born  in  Oliio,  1839.  .Studied  under  Hans  Gude,  Dusseldorf,  and  in  London.  His  works  are  as  widely  known 
as  those  of  any  .American  artist. 


WRIGLPW,  A.  E. 

694.  A Memory  of  Illinois. 

WEBBICR,  Wesley. 

695.  Becalmed. 

696.  View  on  Charles  River. 

697.  livening  Vineyard  Sound. 

WHITTAKER,  Mrs.  C.  E. 

698.  Portrait. 

WATTS,  Alexander. 

699.  P'ive  Miles  to  Barnsley. 

WAGNER,  Jacob. 

700.  Apple  Orchard,  Longwood. 

701.  Ideal  Landscape. 

702.  Meditation. 

WADSWORTH,  Miss  A.  E. 

703.  Marshes  at  Pissex. 

704.  P'ruit  Girl. 

WHEELER,  A. 

705.  Still  Life. 

706.  Head. 

WENTWORTH,  Geo.  A. 

707.  The  Sentinel  of  the  I'lock. 

708.  P'orest  Stream,  Midsummer. 

WOODBURY,  Chas.  H. 

709.  Piast  Gloucester  P'erry. 

710.  Portrait  of  Darwin. 

WRIGHT,  George. 

711.  A Miss  is  as  Good  as  a Mile. 


II S5  Broadway,  Nczv  York. 

Boston. 


Boston. 


Chicago,  III. 


Boston. 


Boston. 


Boston. 


Boston. 


Lynn,  Mass. 


I S20  Chestnut  street,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 


WILLIAMS,  Isaac  L. 

712.  Kauterskill  Clove. 

WALLACE,  Marv  Wyman. 

713.  Puck. 

714.  David  Copperfield. 

715.  Puss  and  Boots. 

/ 

WHITEMAN,  Miss  M.  H. 

716.  Incognita. 

717.  Claudia. 

WOODWARD,  Laura. 

718.  Willows  by  the  Brook  Side. 

WEBBER,  Elorence  J. 

719.  Landscape. 

720.  A Sketch. 

721.  Warren  Photo.  Art  Co. 

WEBER,  Theodore. 

722.  The  Pier’s  Head,  Boulogne. 

WALTON,  William. 

723.  Summer  Noon. 

724.  Anonyma. 

725.  St.  Margaret. 


Chestnut  street,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 
1^28  Bergen  street,  Brooklyn,  N.  li 


ij2y  Chestnut  street,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 


East  P'onrteenth  street,  Jersey  City. 

East  Saugus,  Mass. 


Paris. 


p7  Lafayette  place,  Neiu  York. 


Studied  in  Paris  under  Carolus  Duran. 


WELLINGTON,  Mrs.  L.  N. 

726.  Chestnut,  road-side  Stockbridge. 

WUNDERLICH  & CO.,  Hermann. 

727.  Etchings. 

1.  Autumn. 

2.  On  the  Hillside. 

3.  Sunset  on  the  East  River. 

4.  Morning  on  the  East  River. 

5.  Portsmouth,  N.  H. 

6.  Gloucester. 

7.  A River  in  Holland. 

8.  The  Romance. 

9.  Old  Mill  at  New  London. 

10.  The  Way  to  the  River. 

11.  The  Mandoline  Player. 

12.  On  the  Hackensack  River. 

13.  Portland  on  the  St.  John's  River. 

14.  The  Little  River  at  Hartford,  Conn. 

15.  Old  Houses  at  Windsor,  N.  S. 

16.  Solitude. 


Neiv  York, 
Henry  PLarrer. 

u u 


Stephen  Parrish. 

((  a 

Kruseman  Van  PIlten. 
A.  Pk  Bellows. 

Smillie. 

Jas.  J.  Calahan. 

H.  Hill. 

Chas.  a.  Platt. 

((  a n 


Chas.  Vanderfoee. 


YOUNG,  Henry  Dudley. 

728.  Egyptian  Girl. 


Boston. 


YOUNG,  Fred.  Grant.  12 

729.  Nasturtiums. 

ZOELLNER,  Louis. 

730.  Stone  Cameos. 

ZEIM. 

731.  St.  Marks,  Venice. 

From  collection  of  John  A.  Brown,  Esq.,  Providence,  R.  I. 


West  street,  Boston. 
New  York  City. 


MAPLEHURST  AT  NOON. 


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ENGRAVED  BY  \V.  B.  CLOSSON  AFTER  COUTURE 


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MORNING  IN  THE  MEADOWS 


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MORNING  AT  SEA 


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AMERICAN  WOOD  ENGRA  VING 


is  hardly  to  be  expected  tliat  anything  of  striking  novelty 
remains  to  be  said  upon  a subject  which,  by  attracting  so  wide 
attention  as  has  w'ood  engraving,  has  come  to  be  so  much  dis- 
cussed ; while  the  attempt  at  anything  like  an  exhaustive  sketch 
of  the  history  of  this  art  in  America  would  far  exceed  the 
limits  of  an  article  so  brief  as  this  must  of  necessity  be.  Suffi- 
cient excuse  for  writing  is  easily  to  be  found,  however,  in  the 
fact  that  ignorance  is  still  wide-spread  regarding  the  history, 
the  progress,  and  the  tendencies  of  wood  engraving,  and  in  the 
general  principle  that  to  the  consideration  of  all  progressive  arts 
something  may  always  be  added  which  shall  mark  the  measure 
of  their  advancement. 

Without  going  too  minutely  into  the  rise  and  history  of  the 
art  in  general,  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  glance  at  its  more  salient  points.  The  earliest 
attempts  in  this  line,  the  plank-blocks,  were  made  by  cutting  away  with  knives  all 
portions  of  the  wood  not  covered  by  the  design  drawn  upon  it;  and  this  style  of 
engraving,  with  unessential  modifications,  although  naturally  with  great  improve- 
ments, lasted  for  centuries.  Indeed,  until  the  knife  was  displaced  by  the  graver,  the 
mechanical  cutting  away  of  the  wood  left  untouched  by  the  artist’s  design  practically 
covered  the  whole  scope  of  wood  engraving  ; and  it  was  only  by  the  introduction  of 
the  “ white  line  ” that  the  art  acquired  the  freedom  and  dignity  which  distinguish  it 
to-day. 

“White  line,”  although  having  a severely  technical  sound,  is  really  the  simplest 
of  matters.  If  a block  of  wood  is  covered  with  ink  and  then  pressed  upon  paper, 
an  impression  of  the  entire  block  is  produced.  If,  however,  any  portion  of  the 
block  has  been  cut  away  ; if,  for  instance,  an  incision  has  been  made  across  it  with 
the  graver,  a corresponding  white  space  will  appear  in  the  print.  This  is  the  “ white 
line  ” of  the  engraver,  and  a moment’s  reflection  will  show  the  difference  between  a 
servile  cutting  away  of  the  wood  surrounding  the  black  lines  of  a drawing,  and  the 


interpretation  of  that  same  drawing  from  black  lines  upon  white  into  white  lines 
upon  black.  In  the  former  case  the  engraver  is  a mechanic,  in  the  latter  an 
artist. 

An  engraving,  it  must  be  added  to  prevent  misunderstandings,  is  seldom 
entirely  in  white  line.  Occasionally  it  is  so,  but  for  the  most  part  the  outlines  of 
the  artist’s  drawing  are  preserved  in  black  line,  while  the  shadings  and  textures 
are  given  in  carefully  discriminated  white  lines,  of  which  the  skillful  engraver  has  a 
great  variety  of  combinations  at  his  command. 

It  would  not  be  just  to  leave  this  portion  of  the  subject  without  adding  that, 
while  it  is  accurate  in  the  main  to  class  black  line  work  as  mechanical  and  white 
line  as  artistic,  neither  statement  must  be  taken  too  exactly.  Art  in  this  application 
becomes  a matter  of  original  and  intelligent  rendering,  which  may,  of  course,  be  in 
black  line.  To  produce  the  black  line,  however,  the  process  is  the  negative  one 
of  removing  the  surface  of  the  wood  surrounding  it,  while  the  white  line  is  the  direct 
product  of  the  free  graver  ; and  it  follows  that  freedom  and  spontaneity  are  far  more 
likely  to  result  from  the  latter  process  than  from  the  former.  Many  engravers  have 
distinguished  themselves  by  the  strength  and  character  of  their  engraving  in  pure 
black  line  — or,  to  use  Mr.  Linton’s  far  better,  because  more  descriptive  term,  fac 
simile  — engraving;  but  they  have  done  it  in  the  face  of  difficulties  which  the  more 
legitimate  methods  avoid,  and  which  render  freedom  and  originality  impossible  to 
anything  like  the  degree  belonging  to  the  latter  system. 

White  line  engraving  was  brought  into  prominence  and  perfection  by  Thomas 
Bewick  (1753-1828)  and  his  pupils,  Charlton  Nesbit  and  Luke  Clennell,  the  latter 
in  some  respects  surpassing  their  master.  American  art  goes  back  to  Bewick  through 
Dr.  Alexander  Anderson  (1775-1870).  He,  and  others  less  conspicuous,  laid  the 
foundations  of  white  line  work  in  this  country,  which  the  publications  of  the  Ameri- 
can Tract  Society  and  of  Harper  Brothers  fostered.  The  centur}^  had,  however,  passed 
its  meridian  before  American  wood  engraving  attained  any  marked  excellence. 
Henry  Marsh,  with  his  exquisite  and  wonderful  illustrations  to  Harris’s  “ Insects 
Injurious  to  Vegetation,”  for  whose  perfection  he  paid  the  price  of  falling  into  a 
minuteness  which  injures  all  his  subsequent  work  ; W.  J.  Linton,  with  his  excellent 
understanding  of  the  true  aims  and  the  innate  limitations  of  his  art ; A.  V.  S. 
Anthony,  whose  delicate  yet  broad  graver  work  stands  still  at  the  head  of  American 
engraving  upon  wood,  were  all  distinguished  in  the  first  decade  and  a half  of  the 
present  semi-century.  The  establishment  and  rivalry  of  the  illustrated  monthly 
magazines,  “Harper’s”  and  “Scribner’s,”  brought  into  prominence  a number  of 
engravers  and  exerted  a most  marked  influence  upon  their  art. 

It  is  in  connection  with  the  magazines,  and  especially  with  “Scribner’s,”  that 
the  term  “New  School”  has  come  into  use.  The  title  is  sufficiently  vague,  and  of 
necessity  must  remain  so,  since  it  has  been  used  like  charity  to  cover  a multitude 
of  sins,  rather  than  to  mark  the  development  of  any  fresh  and  vital  principles.  It 
has  been  made  the  sufficient  answer  to  all  protests  against  slovenliness,  sensation- 
alism, and  clap-trap.  Its  followers  have  sacrificed  drawing,  texture,  and  precision,  to 
striking  impressions  of  color,  or  to  an  unworthy  and  finical  imitation  of  the  processes 
of  the  original  design  ; they  neglect  every  -desirable  quality  to  reproduce  the  brush 
marks  of  the  picture  they  engrave,  or  they  mingle  foreground  and  distance,  sky,  sea. 


and  land,  in  one  indistinguishable  mass  of  unmeaning  lines,  simply  caring  to  work 
out  some  single  striking  effect. 

An  artist  is  always  upon  the  wrong  track  who  conceives  the  secret  of  emphasis 
to  lie  in  distortion;  he  is  often  justified  in  suppressing,  seldom  in  falsifying,  details. 
When  an  engraver  has  cut  one  portion  of  his  block  the  remaining  portions  demand 
a certain  relative  value,  not  necessarily  any  especial  and  definite  combination  of  lines, 
but  an  absolute  discrimination,  an  honest  interpretation  ; and  to  slight  or  ignore  this 
is  to  falsify  the  whole.  The  great  absurdity  of  the  so  called  “ New  School”  engraving 
has  been  that  it  constantly  struck  a key-note  with  which  it  refused  to  remain  in 
harmony. 

The  tendency  to  precipitancy  and  spasmodic  growth  has  been  so  strongly  marked 
in  all  American  affairs,  that  even  art,  which  most  requires  calm  and  leisure  for  its 
healthful  development,  has  not  been  able  to  escape  it.  Enterprise  has  been  so 
worshiped  that  moderation  has  been  forgotten,  and  American  wood  engraving  has 
shared  the  misfortune  of  the  marvelous  success  which  advertising  has  bestowed  upon 
patent  medicine.  The  essential  in  art  has  been  made  to  give  place  to  the  successful 
accidental. 

It  may  not  be  amiss  to  glance  a moment  at  the  definition  of  essential  as  applied  to 
wood  engraving.  Engraving  is  the  art  of  interpreting  in  cuts  of  the  graver  the  thought 
which  the  artist  has  expressed  with  pencil,  pen,  gauche,  or  whatever  medium  it  suited 
him  to  use.  It  follows  that  the  interpretation  must  be  faithful  to  the  intentions  of  the 
artist;  the  drawing  must  be  preserved  in  its  integrity,  th^'^extures  must  be  distin- 
guished, and  above  all  — the  principle  is  one  which  underlie^*..*!!  the  arts  — there  must 
in  every  stroke  of  the  graver  be  meaning  and  intention.  Mr.  Linton  very  happily 
defines  pure  white  line  as  a “ line  drawn  with  meaning  by  the  graver  ” ; and  it  is 
always  perfectly  competent  to  hold  any  engraver  to  account  for  strokes  by  which  he 
has  relieved  himself  from  ^le  trouble  of  finishing  his  block  intelligibly.  Accuracy 
and  Intelligibility  are  the  prime  essentials  of  all  good  engraving. 

We  have  been  led  into  quite  a digression  by  the  mention  of  the  ” New  School,” 
but  the  subject  is  one  of  much  interest  and  importance.  Various  technical  points 
have  come  into  prominence  in  connection  with  recent  American  engraving.  Photog- 
raphy on  wood,  first  practiced  in  England  a quarter  of  a century  ago,  has  been 
revived  with  some  flourish  of  trumpets,  and  although  it  has  many  disadvantages,  as, 
for  instance,  the  sacrifice  of  values,  and  the  danger  of  a loss  of  just  proportions  by 
the  abandonment  of  drawing  directly  upon  the  block,  it  has  come  into  very  general 
use.  The  fact  that  it  allows  the  artist  to  work  upon  a larger  scale  and  that  it 
preserves  the  original  design,  have  been  two  strong  points  in  its  favor  ; and  although 
some  of  the  best  engravers  object  to  it,  It  seems  likely  to  hold  its  own. 

It  is  necessary  to  distinguish  between  the  ‘‘  New  School  ” and  the  engravers  who 
have  been  connected  with  it.  Some  of  the  men  who  have  been  betrayed  into  the 
worst  extravagances  of  this  craze  are  those  who  elsewhere  have  done  most  excellent 
work.  Engravers  like  Thomas  Cole,  for  instance,  have  shown  a power  for  simplicity 
and  directness  which  has  given  them  a high  rank  as  artist-engravers  that  makes  it  the 
more  difficult  to  forgive  the  eccentricities  and  nonsense  into  which  they  have  allowed 
themselves  to  be  betrayed.  The  portraits  of  Mr.  Cole,  for  instance,  have  varied  from 
the  superb  plate  of  Madame  Modjeska  to  heads  which  — partly,  it  is  true,  owing  to 


the  originals  from  which  he  worked  — have  the  general  look  of  an  attempt  to  mold  a 
bas-relief  in  cotton  batting. 

It  is  more  pleasing,  than  to  dwell  upon  this  phase  of  the  subject,  however,  to 
consider  to  how  high  a degree  of  perfection  the  art  of  wood  engraving  has  been 
carried  in  this  country.  American  pride  has  been  justly  aroused  by  the  acknowledg- 
ments from  abroad  that  in  delicacy,  refinement,  and  directness,  this  art  has  here 
reached  a perfection  hitherto  unattained.  German  wood  engravings  have  often  more 
robustness,  and  perhaps  more  vigor  ; but,  in  the  qualities  indicated,  the  superiority  of 
American  work  is  undisputed.  Masters  like  Linton,  Anthony,  Cole,  Thomas  John- 
son, Juengling,  F.  S.  King,  Kruell,  J.  P.  Davis,  Robert  Hoskin,  and  others  of  whom 
the  list  is  too  long  for  insertion  here,  have  given  to  this  one  branch  of  art  a rank  and 
prominence  of  which  there  is,  unhappily,  little  prospect  of  the  attainment  in  any 
other.  The  absurdities  after  which  an  uneducated  public  has  run  are  being  left 
behind  in  the  advance  of  appreciation  and  culture,  and  those  engravers  vdio  have 
been  faithful  to  their  art,  rather  than  to  the  eccentricities  of  a transient  craze,  have 
the  satisfaction  of  seeing  appreciation  and  understanding  returning  to  genuine  and 
artistic  standards. 

While  New- York  has  to  a great  extent  been  the  center  of  influence  in  American 
wood  engraving,  Boston  has  a record  upon  which  she  may  fairly  congratulate  herself. 
Without  taking  space  for  extensive  enumeration,  it  would  be  unfair  to  omit  mention 
of  Mr.  Closson,  best  known  by  his  beautiful  and  thoroughly  sympathetic  rendering  of 
George  Fuller’s  “Winifred  Dysart,’’  or  to  pass  over  in  silence  W.  J.  Dana,  an  engraver 
of  taste  and  skill,  with  well-trained  artistic  instincts.  To  Mr.  Anthony  I have  already 
alluded,  and  want  of  space  must  compel  the  omission  of  others  who  are  assisting 
wood  engraving  to  that  new  and  glorious  future  which,  if  many  significant  signs  may- 
be trusted,  will  outdo  in  brilliancy-  even  its  present. 

• Arlo  Bates 


AMERICAN  ART  FURNITURE 


HE  Centennial  marked  an  era  in  our  useful  arts  and 
awakened  the  apathetic  talent  of  our  manufacturers ; 
our  country  had  been  chaotic  in  industrial  design,  and 
our  fancy,  tickled  by  the  abundance  of  mechanical  means, 
stopped  short  of  application  to  decorative  problems. 
Pleased  by  the  applause  of  older  nations  we  became  uncon- 
scious of  our  short-comings,  and  failed  even  in  a national  blush 
for  our  infantile  accomplishments  in  the  finer  works.  It  required 
the  graceful  skill  of  a F'ourdinois,  the  joining  of  Vogts,  and  the  aisthetic 
shaping  of  Thonet,  to  create  in  our  mind  the  disposition  for  rich  surround- 
ings. Our  designs  were  crude,  our  cabinet  work  imperfect,  our  construction 
unreliable  — aesthetically;  we  cared  little  for  comely  shapes,  and  gave  no 
thought  to  pleasing  effects.  Hair- cloth  upholstered  upon  polished  rosewood 
was  the  fascinating  finish  furniture  displayed,  and  we  found  place  for  it  in  the 
plague-stricken  parlor,  closed  to  the  every-day  visitor  by  our  domestic  board  of 
economy,  composed  of  our  wife  and  our  superstition,  lest  a ray  of  sunshine  should 
vivify  the  germs  of  that  fatal  disease,  extravagance,  lurking  within  the  prison-like 
apartment,  ready  to  spread  its  contagious  poison  upon  the  slenderest  opportunity,  and 
perhaps  bring  with  it  the  fatal  maladies  of  good  taste  and 'better  desires. 

Art  was  dw^arfed  in  the  court  of  our  first  President,  and  we  had  drifted  through 
an  hundred  years  of  artistic  nihilism  until  we  were  confronted  with  the  evidences  of 
what  was  possible  in  the  “ effete  monarchies  ” of  Europe.  livery  man  appointed  a 
mental  investigating  committee  of  one  energetic  member,  and  discovered  for  himself 
that  the  disposition  to  secure  pleasing  and  harmonious  surroundings  had  not  died 
with  the  aboriginal  peoples,  but  vigorously  asserted  itself  in  the  homes  of  our 
neighbors  across  the  sea, — one  of  the  forms  of  mediasvalism  that  they  had  retained 
while  we  were  striving  to  anticipate  the  tw'entieth  century  in  the  invention  of  im- 
proved cotton  mules  and  powerful  but  unmanageable  motors.  We  were  surprised  into 


activity  to  find  comfort  lurking  in  the  furniture  houses  of  Berlin  and  Vienna,  and 
the  undemonstrative  Briton  environed  by  charming  morceaux  of  the  carver’s  skill  or 
trifles  that  bore  the  touch  of  a master’s  chisel — his  tired  brain  resting  itself  in  the 
contemplation  of  harmonious  associations,  and  the  smoke  from  his  cigar  curling  about 
the  lively  creations  of  Burne  Jones  or  Leighton. 

Our  manufacturers  were  equal  to  the  demand  ; they  left  the  path  of  preceding 
generations,  and,  drawing  upon  the  designers  of  other  countries,  prepared  to  cultivate 
the  taste  of  the  people,  and  supply  a sure  and  inexhaustible  quantity  of  refinement  — 
to  order.  Marvelous  were  the  changes,  and  rapid  too ; family  portraits,  particularly 
precious  as  antiques,  the  sole  decorative  scheme  that  had  figured  upon  the  walls  for 
years,  were  banished  to  the  retirement  of  the  attic,  and  their  successors  were  sus- 
pended some  feet  below  what  had  heretofore  been  considered  “ the  line,”  and  we  very 
soon  marveled  at  the  awful  existence  of  Americans  in  the  Ragnarok  age  of  confusion, 
when  tyranny  limited  the  possibilities  of  enjoyment  and  home  splendor  was  pro- 
scribed. This  is  one  of  the  accomplishments  of  the  novitiate  — enthusiasm,  and  we 
were  nationally  enthused. 

It  may  be  that  an  unavoidable  mercantile  spirit  biased  the  judgment  of  manu- 
facturers in  the  adoption  of  ideas.  A design  that  would  find  ready  purchasers 
and  fulfill  all  the  requirements  of  barter  and  trade  must  naturally  be  the  proper 
one  to  select,  and  the  result,  no  less  fortunate  than  satisfactory,  pleased  the 
purchaser  with  the  possession  of  what  he  preferred  and  gratified  the  desire  of  the 
dealer. 

Following  this  first  enthusiastic  period  of  our  naissmice,  the  new  demands  of  the 
people  were  made  a subject  of  commercial  consideration  in  the  art  schools,  and  with 
commendable  celerity  classes  were  organized  to  teach  the  new  and  fascinating  pro- 
fession of  designing.  Students,  regardless  of  adaptability,  took  up  the  study  with  the 
questionable  result  to-day  that  there  is  no  private  society  mentioned  in  the  United 
States  Art  Directory  that  gives  attention  to  furniture  designing,  and  the  curriculum 
of  no  college  embraces  this  useful  phase  of  art.  The  weeding  process  has  been 
thorough,  no  incompetents  are  left  in  the  field ; they  thought  it  was  an  easy  task  to 
rival  the  lines  of  Apelles. 

Foreign  sources  supply  our  demand  for  talent,  and  our  rooms  are  evidences  of 
the  perfection  of  imported  ability. 

Art  manufacture  has  distanced  art  designing,  and  we  discover  the  anomaly  of 
qualified  native  fabricants  unsuccessfully  seeking  qualified  native  dcssinatcurs,  and 
disturbed  by  the  discouraging  fact  that  no  apparent  efforts  are  being  made  to  change 
this  condition  of  the  mark&t.  Germany  and  France  are  the  nurseries  where  we  find 
our  art  workers,  but  to  the  present  all  the  children  of  our  factories  are  adopted,  none 
ours  by  right  of  maternity. 

There  is  a legend  that  has  come  down  from  some  of  our  earliest  settlers  that  we 
originated,  or  adapted,  or  cultivated  a style  that  stands  as  the  sole,  solitary  offspring 
of  the  designing  element  in  our  history ; but  this  Colonial  form  was  a supreme  effort ; 
the  struggle  of  genius  succumbed,  and  its  anaesthetic  slumber  was  protracted  to  the 
centennial  anniversary  of  the  application  of  the  narcotic  ; and  then,  when  it  was 
violently  shaken  up,  it  rubbed  its  eyes,  and  found  itself  several  generations  behind  the 
times.  It  discovered  that  during  its  lethargy  human  beings,  resident  in  the  United 


States,  had  been  constructed  to  fit  the  furniture,  and  in  a melancholy  way  it  relapsed 
to  await  the  coming  of  a time  when  furniture,  in  its  turn,  would  be  made  to  fit  human 
beings.  Toward  this  period  we  hope  to  be  hastening ; but  the  speed  of  our  motions 
can  be  accelerated  only  by  the  lubricating  process  of  an  adequate  education,  technical 
if  you  please,  but  as  practically  technical  as  possible. 

Such  is  the  condition  to-day  of  American  art  furniture;  constructively  consid- 
ered, manufacturers  are  equal  to  the  most  exacting  requirements,  and  the  best  pro- 
ductions of  our  best  makers  are  equal  to  the  best  from  anywhere  else.  There  is  a 
phase  of  the  furniture  business  in  this  country,  however,  that  must  be  allowed  its 
weight  in  all  comparisons  between  our  own  and  other  work.  The  more  expensive 
grade  of  articles,  just  like  the  more  intellectual  class  of  persons,  is  about  the  same  all 
over  the  world,  without  distinction  as  to  nationality : there  we  have  excelled  only  in 
rapidity  of  our  progress,  not  in  form ; but  in  the  cheaper  quality  we  are  undeniably 
at  the  head.  If  you  are  a doubter,  visit  those  cheerless,  dusty  deserts  yclept  furniture 
warerooms,  on  some  of  the  boulevards  of  Paris,  beyond  the  Porte  St.  Martin,  or,  to 
go  a step  lower,  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Halles  or  in  the  opposite  direction  toward  Mont- 
martre, and  seek  something  cheerful  from  the  mass  of  clumsy  lumber  hewn  out  into 
the  shape  of  a chair,  a chaise  longtie,  a tete-a-tete,  an  armoire,  and  a hundred  other 
caricatures  upon  the  fashionable  furnishings  of  the  St.  Germain.  So,  too,  in  London  : 
take  Tottenham  Court  Road,  and  Oxford  street  not  many  blocks  from  its  junction 
with  the  Road,  lunch  at  the  Horse-shoe,  and  you’ll  be  within  easy  distance  of  a dozen 
just  such  places  as  I am  talking  about.  Understand,  I do  not  ask  you  to  visit  Four- 
dinois  nor  Lippman,  not  even  Jackson  & Graham,  but  the  middle-class  dealer,  he  who 
turns  out  pieces  by  the  gross,  each  piece  with  the  carved  apple  in  the  very  same  spot 
on  its  arm  or  back,  and  the  stems  of  the  fruit  all  pointing  in  identically  the  same 
direction,  and  the  same  mistake  of  making  the  protuberance  look  more  like  a cannon- 
ball than  a fruit.  This  is  the  furniture  I am  discussing  ; and  in  the  attempt  at  per- 
fection in  this  quality  we  distance  our  foreign  friends  with  wonderful  ease.  Our  cheap 
material  is  much  superior  to  theirs  ; no  American  that  I have  met  would  be  satisfied 
to  furnish  his  home  from  Grafton  street,  for  Fourteenth  street  would  supply  his  tem- 
porary wants  more  satisfactorily. 

The  demands  of  our  rapidly  growing  country  have  necessitated  immense  factories, 
with  a practically  unlimited  capacity  in  producing  machine  furniture.  This  stock 
furniture  aims  at  and  attains  a certain  degree  of  attractiveness  that  is  commendable 
and,  considering  the  quantity  of  it  turned  out,  is  really  remarkable.  Expensive  suits 
are  more  or  less  faithfully  counterfeited  and  the  appearance,  at  least,  of  fashionable 
and,  at  the  same  time,  substantial  surroundings  is  guaranteed  the  economical  purchaser. 
Yet  the  factories  bring  forth  some  finely  finished  work  as  well:  it  is  not  confined  to  an 
inferior  grade  by  any  means,  but  much  of  it  is  worthy  of  being  artistically  considered. 
We  no  longer  seek  a furnishing  that  will  last  through  a life-time  and  be  a cause  of 
contention  to  our  heirs;  an  hundred  years  hence  very  few  antiques  dating  from  this  year 
of  grace  will  be  unearthed  from  the  dust  of  the  garret,  and  the  ponderous  clock  of  the 
Revolutionary  period  will  still  reign  unrivaled  upon  the  first  stair  landing,  a memento 
of  our  earlier  history  ; — this  because  fashion  changes  with  the  months,  and  to  those 
who  desire  to  keep  apace  with  it  the  rapidly  producing  process  is  essential,  and  quick 
construction  is  fatal  to  antiquities. 


I can  hardly  undertake  in  the  limits  of  a catalogue  article,  even  to  suggest  a means 
for  increasing  our  brain  labor  to  the  standard  of  our  manual  labor, — that  can  only 
come  with  increased  education;  but  in  the  meantime  we  can  cultivate  good  taste,  and 
the  surest  way  of  doing  so  is  to  preserve  in  all  our  furnishings  a purity  of  style  even 
at  the  expense  of  comnie  il  faiit. 

A.  Curtis  Bond 


WHAT  SHALL  AMERICAN  ARTISTS 

PAINT? 


charge  against 
achieved  in  the 


FTER  the  American  has  learned  the  technique  of  his  art, 
the  question  comes,  What  shall  he  do  with  it  ? Most 
Americans  to-day  go  on  repeating  substantially  the  suc- 
cesses of  their  school-days.  As  the  best  of  their  schools 
are  in  France  and  Germany,  the  art  of  Americans  is  usually 
Furopean.  This  is  the  great  drawback  of  the  famous 
revival  of  technique,  since  the  young  men  of  the  present 
generation  came  back  from  Munich  and  Paris,  and  the 
“ Hudson  River  School  ” of  the  National  Academy  of 
Design  fell  into  disgrace.  The  Hudson  River  school  had 
at  least  this  merit  — their  subject-matter  was  American  ; 
such  as  their  art  was,  it  was  their  own.  The  gravest 
‘ the  young  men  ” is,  that  they  don’t  know  that  what  they  have 
improvement  of  technique  is  but  the  first  step  from  the  foot  of  Par- 
nassus,— the  means  and  not  the  end.  Still,  at  times  the  truth  seems  to  break  upon 
them,  and  we  see  one  and  another  of  them  attempting  an  “historical  painting,”  and 
upon  some  subject  out  of  American  annals.  But  the  Old  World  trammels  and 
traditions  persistently  cling  around  such  an  adventure,  and  we  find  its  projector  merely 
transporting  his  Roman  gladiators  or  Egyptian  procession  to  America,  just  as  he  had 
before  transported  his  modern  procession  or  ring-fight  to  Egpyt  or  Rome.  The 
combatants  in  his  American  historical  paintings  are,  in  substance,  the  old  knights  or 
grandees  of  the  European  past  masquerading  in  American  clothes  of  the  colonial 
period.  The  failure  of  such  travesty  to  impress  commensurably  with  the  old  art  which 
it  imitates,  is  reason  enough  for  the  discouragement  that  ere  long  overtakes  the  laud- 
able ambition  to  do  historical  painting.  Our  European-bred  young  painter  then  goes 
frankly  back  to  his  French  or  German  school  exercises,  his  kitchen  maidens  preter- 
naturally  innocent  or  stupid,  or  his  old  men  phenomenally  decayed  and  hideous,  or 
is  fain  to  content  himself  with  those  “stunning  bits  of  color,”  or  realistic  reproductions 


of  studio  bri:-a-brac,  objects  of  brass,  pottery,  or  textile  fabric,  that  are  much 
applauded  by  his  fellows.  The  most  brilliant  and  accomplished  of  the  “ young  men  ” 
of  New  York  have  little  to  show  as  yet  but  these  smart  studies  of  mere  odds  and 
ends  — the  “ properties,”  to  borrow  the  term  of  the  theater, — which  should  only  be 
seriously  presented  to  public  view  as  detail,  in  subordination  to  the  main  purpose  of  a 
consistent  composition. 

Signs,  however,  are  not  wanting  that  the  artists  themselves  are  not  satisfied 
with  these  achievements.  Every  one  of  them  has  his  dreams  of  a grand  composition, 
which  he  will  “ get  down  to  ” some  day,  when  his  “ pot-boilers  ” are  out  of  the  way, 
and  he  has  more  opportunity  to  study  and  to  think.  But  his  great  picture  is  always 
after  some  ideal  of  a great  picture,  remembered  as  a revelation  of  great  art  in  his 
early  visits  to  European  galleries;  the  atmosphere  of  the  past  and  its  romance  seem 
necessary  to  great  art.  This  is  a lesson  that  has  sunk  deeper  than  any  of  the 
technical  teachings  of  the  academies  or  ateliers.  Then  what-  can  ever  be  done  in 
atmosphere-less  and  vista-less  America  ? Hardly  is  American  out-of-doors,  artists 
say,  with  its  thin  air  and  untempered  sunshine  and  with  never  a castle  or  ruin, 
fit  for  art  purposes  ; and  American  work-a-day  life,  with  its  commonplace  good 
men  and  women  and  with  neither  peasants  nor  grand  seigneurs,  is  not  to  be 
thought  of  in  connection  with  art.  It  is  the  hard  fate  of  the  would-be  patriotic 
American  painter  that  American  nature  and  American  human  nature  both  “ put 
him  out.” 

Can  we,  then,  never  boast  an  art  of  our  own,  escaping  from  the  Old  World’s  art  ? 
Cannot  America,  by  and  by,  when  it  has  mastered  the  elementary  things  in  art,  and 
attained  a good  footing  in  the  practice  of  painting,  strike  out  in  some  characteristic 
and  original  expression  of  art-sentiment  and  art-purpose  ? One  or  two  things  that 
have  already  been  witnessed  as  accomplished  facts  in  the  modern  history  of  art  are 
encouraging.  Eor  example,  modern  art  has  clearly  emancipated  itself  from  the  relig- 
ious subject  and  motive  that  so  largely  dominated  old  masters.  Academy  art  may 
still  live  in  classic  mythology,  and  go  on  painting,  really  for  the  opportunities  at  the 
nude.  Naiads  and  Apollos,  Andromaches  and  Eurydices,  with  the  persistency  of 
conservatism  enthroned  in  institutions.  But  even  that  art  has  less  and  less  to  do  with 
martyrs  and  saints,  Marys  and  crucifixions.  There  is  herein,  within  our  own  times,  a 
clear  and  distinct  new  departure,  which  may  be  taken  as  cheering  evidence  that  other 
and  futher  departures  are  at  least  not  impossible.  It  is  true  the  aimless  and  tentative 
contemporary  French  art,  with  its  literal  and  material  delineations  of  the  cruelty  and 
horror  of  modern  battle,  of  the  by-play  of  the  coulisses  or  the  dissecting  room,  of  orien- 
tal slave-markets  or  harems,  with  their  pampered  prisoners  and  stolid  executioners,  is 
a sorry  exchange — what  is  it  but  morbid  and  exhausted  sensualism?  — even  for  the 
pseudo  dignity  of  the  elder  classical  school,  or  the  affected  romanticism  of  its  successor, 
that  in  its  turn  went  out  of  fashion.  Millet  was  purely  unique  in  French  art,  an  excep- 
tion, the  product  of  no  school  and  the  creator  of  none.  Modern  art,  to  judge  from  its 
best  existing  illustrations  in  France  and  Germany,  may  have  settled  down  to  no  definite 
and  comprehensive  purpose  as  yet,  but  it  has  at  all  events  declared  its  independence, 
taken  fresh  starts  in  a number  of  directions,  and  asserted  its  freedom  from  classic  rule 
and  conventional  precedent.  This  release  is  one  great  thing  of  promise  for  our  own 
art  of  the  future.  The  bonds,  having  once  been  broken,  may  be  broken  again  and 


again  until  the  old  canons  as  to  propriety,  dignity,  and  the  field  and  limitations  of 
art,  shall  have  been  entirely  remade. 

The  English  “anecdotal”  school  of  art,  degenerated  from  Hogarth  and  Wilkie, 
which  it  is  the  proper  thing  to  deride  as  small  and  goody  in  spirit,  and  prosaic  and 
commonplace  in  motive,  is  nevertheless  an  illustration  of  the  universal  adaptability 
of  art  to  the  genius  of  a people  and  its  characteristic  social  and  moral  sentiments. 
The  exotic  affectations  of  the  Grosvenor  Gallery  school  will  pass  and  be  forgotten 
first.  The  elasticity  and  catholicity  of  Art,  as  proved  by  the  rise  of  the  English 
school  and  its  fulfillment  in  certain  really  distinctive  English  graces,  are  another 
item  of  encouragement.  We  may  imagine  therefrom  how  art  may  one  day  be  turned 
and  employed  to  cover  and  idealize  American  life  and  types.  It  is  hard  to  foresee 
what  America  may  become  in  the  great  by  and  by.  But  it  is  very  certain  that  it  will 
be  still  further  away  than  at  present  from  the  mediaeval  subject-matter  of  the  great 
masters,  who  may  nevertheless  continue  to  be  the  undisputed  great  masters  in  that 
day.  Knights  and  chivalry,  the  pomp  and  fashion  of  European  aristocracy,  mariolatry 
and  myths  of  the  saints  and  martyrs  will  have  gone  still  further  from  our  associations 
and  sympathy.  The  Greek  sculpture  and  subjects  of  classic  poetry,  with  their  pagan 
nearness  to  great  universal  nature,  in  origin  may  still  continue  to 

“ shine  aloft  like  stars.” 

But  the  art  that  will  be  “of  the  people  and  for  the  people,”  the  art  that  will 
represent  them  and  their  time,  as  the  art  of  the  great  Italians  did  their  time,  and  that 
of  the  great  Dutchmen  theirs,  and,  sed  longo  intervallo,  that  of  the  founders  of  the 
strong  and  simple  English  school  theirs, — will  be  of  its  own  time. 

To  the  same  extent  that  we  are  able  to  reconstruct  the  social  life  of  an  epoch 
from  its  art,  we  should  be  able  to  imagine  the  art  of  an  epoch  from  its  social  life.  A 
state  of  ripened  refinement,  of  assured  wealth,  of  luxury,  ease,  and  repose,  must  be 
presupposed  for  any  art.  Such  a social  condition  is  indispensable ; it  is  art’s  soil, 
sunlight,  and  atmosphere.  Art  is  only  added  after  all  else  has  been  achieved.  It  is 
the  blossoming  culmination  in  beauty  of  all  useful  work.  A crown  of  glory,  its  proper 
and  matchless  function  is  to  celebrate  the  steps  by  which  the  summit,  the  consum- 
mation, of  civilization  has  been  gained.  Thus  Greek  and  Egyptian  art  embalmed 
history.  Thus  pre-Raphaelite  art  glorified  and  commemorated  the  virtues  of  the 
early  Christian  saints.  Thus  the  Gothic  art  of  the  dark  ages  immortalized  the  work 
of  the  fathers  of  the  church,  through  whom  the  world  possessed  whatever  of  grace, 
blessing,  and  refinement  humanity  then  enjoyed.  Thus  later  generations  celebrated 
the  triumphs  of  great  soldiers,  noblemen,  rulers,  and  pontiffs,  whose  munificence  and 
splendors  appeared  to  embrace  and  represent  all  the  beneficence  of  the  world  and 
nature. 

The  future  art,  it  cannot  be  doubted,  will  represent,  as  the  art  of  the  past  has 
done,  the  events,  the  scenes,  and*  the  personages  that  shall  be  recognized  as  con- 
tributing the  most  toward  the  then  existing  condition  of  the  most  favored  society. 
Not  to  soldiers  and  princes  will  be  ascribed  the  credit  and  the  glory  of  the  civilization 
of  the  twentieth  century,  which  will  probably  be  nowhere  more  distinctive  and  com- 
plete than  in  America;  to  the  inventors,  the  humanitarians,  the  scientists,  the  reform- 


ers,  the  thinkers,  poets,  and  artists  themselves  will  fall  the  most  fit  and  most  inspiring 
commemoration  of  the  epoch  through  art.  The  art  of  the  old  masters  will  be  venerated 
as  is  that  of  the  pious  carvers  and  painters  of  what  we  now  call  early  art.  But  as  their 
sumptuousness  of  color  and  bold  voluptuousness  of  subject  were  the  fit  expression  of 
the  luxury  and  munificence  of  the  splendid,  unconscious  selfishness  of  a ruling 
aristocracy,  that  best  expression  of  civilization  to  their  date,  so  their  style  would  be 
precisely  the  most  unfit  for  our  own  humane  and  intellectual  democracy  of  the  future. 
What  makes  the  weak  and  crude  art  of  the  pre-Raphaelite  painters  valuable  and 
interesting  to-day  is  its  utter  genuineness  of  spirit  and  of  representative  character. 
What  makes  the  art  of  the  sixteenth  century  so  imperious  to-day  is  its  perfect 
embodiment  of  the  imperial  spirit,  strength,  wealth,  and  ambition  of  its  age.  A like 
representative  fitness  will  make  the  art  of  the  twentieth  century  what  it  shall  be. 
As  surely  as  mind  is  ever  conquering  matter,  so  surely  will  the  progress  of  the  world 
go  on  making  fire-wood  of  the  institutions  of  the  past,  ecclesiasticism,  militarism,  and 
caste.  It  will  go  on  not  with  the  sword,  but  with  science;  not  with  the  oppression  of 
the  lower  by  the  upper  classes,  but  by  the  raising  of  the  lower  to  the  level  of  the 
upper.  All  the  art  that  glorifies  the  mere  prowess  of  physical  strength  or  beauty, 
mere  rulers,  priests,  and  nobles,  will  be  studied  only  as  the  art  of  the  old  monks,  or  of 
the  ancient  East,  for  the  teaching  it  conveys  of  its  time.  The  art  of  the  twentieth 
century  will  occupy  itself  with  the  steps  by  which  the  twentieth  century  rose  and 
with  the  great  minds  that  taught  the  world  to  take  these  steps. 

Our  own  nineteenth  century  master-spirits  that  did  for  their  age  what  the  popes, 
the  grand  dukes,  the  doges,  and  the  tyrants  did  for  their  comparatively  poor  and  petty 
day,  shall  have  an  equally  worthy  representation  in  the  grateful  record  that  art,  as 
humanity’s  deepest,  sincerest,  most  abiding  utterance,  never  fails  to  make.  The 
modern  science,  the  modern  fine  arts,  the  modern  philosophy,  the  modern  philan- 
thropy (indeed  there  is  no  other),  and,  above  ail,  the  modern  democracy,  sweeping 
away  every  old-world  landmark,  have  all  to  be  yet  duly  celebrated  in  art.  Since  art 
has  never  failed  to  do  justice  to  its  epoch  heretofore,  art  will  find  ways  to  do  justice 
to  the  twentieth  century.  As  the  modern  scientific  knowledge  and  spirit  have 
gradually  invaded  and  established  themselves  even  in  the  forms  of  poetical  expression, 
so  they  must  do  also  with  the  elements  of  design  and  pictorial  representation.  The 
poet  of  to-day  paints  a flower  or  a sunset,  not  only  in  different,  but  in  better  and  more 
accurate  terms  than  a poet  of  the  eighteenth  century.  The  painter  of  to-day,  thanks 
to  science,  should  and  will  draw  man  and  nature  with  surer  intelligence  as  to  what 
lines  mean,  and  with  a wider  and  deeper  apprehension  of  man’s  relations  to  nature 
and  to  his  fellow-men. 


E.  H.  Clement 


ASHION  has  decreed  that  the  beautifying  of  the  house  shall 
not  stop,  as  was  the  case  during  the  past  decade,  with  the 
more  important  feature, — the  walls,  ceiling,  and  furnish- 
ing,— but  shall  extend  into  the  minor  details  and  acces- 
sories, giving  to  each,  while  forming  part  of  a general 
scheme,  a beauty  and  value  of  its  own  ; thus,  under  this 
' all-potent  influence,  stained  glass — an  art  that  had  long 
suffered  from  neglect,  and  had  fallen  into  line  with  the 
tinker,  the  plumber,  and  other  useful  but  non-elevating 
trades  — has  been  rapidly  brought  to  the  front  and  become  a 
petted  and,  in  many  instances,  a spoiled  child  of  this  all-ruling 
goddess  ; good,  bad,  and  indifferent,  we  find  it  everywhere  in  the 
homes  of  the  refined,  educated,  and  wealthy,  and  no  scheme  seem- 
ingly is  complete  without  its  glinting,  scintillating  presence. 

As  in  “ the  days  of  old,”  when  the  first  glass  workers  were  artists 
as  well  as  workers,  drawing  their  inspirations  from  Nature,  whence  all 
that  is  best  in  art  emanates,  so  now  has  there  sprung  up  a class  of  art  workers 
in  this  country,  men  of  refined  taste  and  fine  artistic  feeling,  who  are  struggling 
with  a difficult  medium  and  varied  but  as  a whole  excellent  success  for  the  best 
possible  artistic  results,  as  many  beautiful  and  valuable  productions  will  testify. 
Not  all  have  been  good,  however,  notably  some  of  the  most  ambitious  efforts  of 
more  than  one  well-known  artist  in  this  medium,  wherein  the  motif  sought  for  was 
undoubtedly  good,  but  the  result  falling  sadly  short,  or  so  far  overreaching  the 
original  conception  as  to  border  on  the  absurd  ; this  failing  comes  from  a desire  for 
originality,  and  a pushing  out  into  ‘‘pastures  new,”  where  the  way  is  untrodden  and 
ofttimes  too  difficult  ; a motif  perhaps  “wild  and  weird  ” is  half  conceived,  the  artist 
gropes  blindly,  feeling  his  way  cautiously  toward  an  unknown  quality,  the  result  is 
startling  both  to  artist  and  public  ; but  no  one  can  tell,  when  the  agony  in  opaques, 
rubies,  and  olives  is  completed,  what,  in  the  much  abused  name  of  art,  the  designer 
was  driving  at,  and  ofttimes  not  he,  for  he  has  lost  his  original  motif  in  “ diverse 
muddy  ways.” 

There  is  on  the  one  hand  much  excuse  for  such  failures,  as  Dame  Fashion  seems 
never  to  be  satisfied,  but  is  ever  demanding  something  new  and  novel,  forcing  the 
artist  almost  in  spite  of  himself  to  reach  out  for  new  and  unexampled  efforts;  and  on 
the  other  hand,  the  pity  of  it  is  that  a piece  of  work  should  be  allowed  to  leave  the  studio 
that  is  not  a satisfactory  embodiment  of  the  artist’s  best  efforts  of  heart,  brain,  and  hand. 
Such  failures  from  certain  master-hands  are  far  worse  than  the  crude  evolutions  of  the 
vapid  and  unskilled  imitator ; for  each  piece,  as  it  goes  through  the  artist’s  hands,  bears  his 
individual  mark,  and  should,  if  only  for  his  own  reputation,  come  as  near  to  perfection  as 


his  material  will  permit.  No  fine  painter  allows  a picture  to  go  out  that  is  not  a complete 
child  of  his  brain,  perfect  in  every  part  and  a true  imprint  of  the  mind  that  brought  it 
forth  ; why  is  it  not  always  so  with  the  irridescent  picture — allowing,  of  course,  that  the 
artist  be  a good  one.  Why  ? Because  fashion  has  sent  forth  her  manifesto.  Certain 
master  minds  came  to  the  front,  asserted  their  power  of  originality  and  artistic  skill  in 
this  field,  and  behold,  they  are  in  the  front  ranks  of  her  favorites,  and  to  be  a “ favorite 
of  fashion  ” means  to  be  driven  to  the  wall  with  commission.  The  overworked  brain 
has  not  the  time  to  do  more  than  conceive  the  ideas,  leaving  to  other  hands  the 
task  of  bringing  it  to  completion  ; and  if,  as  a work  of  art,  this  embodiment  is  not  all 
that  it  should  be,  there  is  no  time  — and  the  monetary  point  of  view  is  also  to  be 
considered  — to  remodel  and  correct,  even  when  the  desire  to  do  so  is  not  wanting; 
the  w'ork  goes  into  place.  Would  you  criticise.  “ Why  it  is  so-and-so’s  work;  it  must 
be  all  right.”  And  what  is  to  a certain  extent  a failure  in  the  studio,  goes  out  to  the  world 
as  a freak  of  genius.  Why  this  is  so,  no  one  knows  better  than  the  artist,  who  finds 
little  time,  throughout  the  heat  and  drive  of  American  ways  of  doing  business,  to  give 
personal  attention  to  all  the  choice  bits  of  detail  and  intrinsic  odd  effects  that  give 
to  the  work  true  artistic  value.  I refer  especially  to  the  whimsical,  kiiiky  combina- 
tions so  much  sought  after  nowadays  ; for  when  the  artist  adheres  to  his  true  sense  of 
artistic  coloring,  and  acquires  knowledge  of  design,  the  results  cannot  fail  to  be  ex- 
cellent, and  in  many  instances  excel,  both  in  design  and  quality  of  material,  the  best 
of  contemporary  European  work. 

The  windows  in  a leading  church  at  Lynn,  Mass.,  will  illustrate  the  danger  of 
extremes.  These  windows  are  the  work  of  a well-known  firm  of  New  York  artists, 
who  have  of  late  given  their  entire  attention  to  decorative  art.  The  call  has  been 
for  a broad,  dashing  style  of  art,  as  practiced  by  the  late  William  Hunt  and  his 
disciples;  to  a limited  extent  these  effects  may  be  produced  in  glass  with  rich  and 
harmonious  results;  so  wide  a field  is  there  now,  in  the  selection  of  quaint  and 
odd  conceits  in  the  material,  that,  with  rare  skill  and  judgment,  by  the  use  only 
of  the  rich  glass  and  lead  lines,  unaided  by  brush  work,  the  imagination  may 
be  captivated  and  led  for  awhile  pleasantly  and  entertainingly  from  the  every- 
day walks  of  life;  but  the  attempts  to  embody  these  principles,  as  a whole,  into 
the  larger  and  more  ambitious  pictorial  and  figure  subjects  has  not,  as  yet,  met 
with  complete  success. 

When  this  principle  is  brought  into  contact  with  the  more  finished  pictorial 
work,  the  result  is  so  sadly  in  contrast  with  it  as  to  suggest  an  unfinished 
effort  or,  at  least,  the  first  blocking  out  for  the  artist’s  brush.  What,  in  smaller 
mosaic  or  decorative  work,  would  be  pretty  or  quaintly  suggestive,  in  the  windows 
referred  to,  with  blotches  of  local  color  and  sharp  lead  outlines,  without  brush 
work  or  delicate  shading  to  soften  their  hard  intensity,  becomes  a serious  annoy- 
ance to  a thoughtful  person  of  delicate  and  refined  perceptions  who  is  compelled, 
nolens  volens,  to  study  them  during  the  hours  of  worship  ; to  such  an  one,  these 
attempts  at  mediaeval  breadth,  without  qualifying  softness,  are  not,  to  speak  mildly, 
conducive  of  higher  thought,  either  of  religion  or  art. 

Mosaic  and  geometrical  patterns  are  well  adapted  to  this  style,  however,  as  also 
small  pretty  bits  of  flower,  fruit,  bird  and  cloud  effects  so  often  attempted ; but  in 
pictorial  or  figure  work,  painting  and  staining  judiciously  used  soften,  beautify,  and 


improve  a window,  giving  it  greater  value  as  a work  of  art  and,  if  for  church  decora- 
tion, better  fitting  it  for  the  position  it  holds.  The  danger  of  goingto  the  other  extreme 
and  overloading  with  paint  is  also  to  be  avoided.  There  is  a series  of  windows  in  a 
beautiful  home  in  Auburndale,  Mass.,  where  many  dollars’  worth  of  otherwise  fine 
work  has  been  fairly  or  unfairly  ruined  by  being  so  covered  with  paint  as  to  exclude 
almost  entirely  the  passage  of  light  through  the  glass,  thus  losing  all  the  sparkle 
and  scintillant  play  of  lights  and  colors  that  should  give  to  the  windows  bright- 
ness and  life ; the  results  are  muddy,  dull,  and  dreary,  and  in  no  way  a credit  to 
the  artist  who  executed  them,  and  more  the  pity,  for  many  of  his  windows — not- 
ably some  on  Commonwealth  avenue  — if  less  ambitious  — are  beautifully  free  and 
sparkling. 

Speaking  of  mosaic  work,  an  art  dating  back  to  remote  ages,  it  is  evident  that 
from  this  the  comparatively  more  recent  art  of  glass  staining  sprang,  the  small  pieces 
of  glass  being  bound  together  by  strips  of  lead,  as  the  tesserae  of  a mosaic  picture  are 
bound  together  by  cement.  Springing  from  this  source  on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the 
other,  from  the  necessity  of  glazing  large  openings  — of  binding  together  the  small 
pieces  of  glass  then  used  — we  have  a very  plausible  theory  of  the  birth  of  stained  glass, 
if  indeed  it  were  not  a species  of  evolution  brought  about  by  these  same  necessities. 
Archaeologists  differ  as  to  the  exact  date.  M.  Jules  Labarte  assigns  it  with  some  degree 
of  certainty  to  the  eleventh  century  ; all  that  appears  to  be  proven  is  that  as  early  as 
the  twelfth  century  the  art  existed  in  France,  if  not  in  England,  in  a fair  state  of 
development. 

The  beautiful  effects  that  are  now  labored  for  and  diligently  sought  after,  in  those 
early  ages  were  the  result  of  crude  and  undeveloped  material  and  a careless  manner  of 
producing  the  “ pot-metal,”  leaving  natural  accidents  of  striae,  bubbles,  and  roughness 
of  surface.  In  bringing  about  these  results  the  modern  manufacturer,  having  first 
made  his  ” pot-metal”  smooth  and  perfect,  has  resource  to  numerous  expedients  — 
among  them,  the  introduction  of  arsenic  into  the  hot  mixture,  causing  it  to  boil  up 
quickly  from  the  bottom,  filling  it  with  bubbles  large  and  small,  and  resulting,  when 
run  into  sheets  and  cooled,  in  that  rough  quality  so  peculiar  to  the  antique  glass.  At 
the  present  time,  we  are  far  in  advance  of  Europe  in  imitating  these  antique  effects, 
although  in  the  beginning  more  backward  in  taking  hold  of  them.  The  first  pots  of 
antique  in  this  country  were  made  by  Mr.  Paige,  of  Boston,  during  the  years  I 869-70, 
and  the  results  were  excellent,  although  during  the  present  revival,  the  further  results 
of  experiment  with  this  material  have  been  wonderful,  far  exceeding  anything  since 
the  days  of  the  original ; and  so  infinite  are  the  effects  offered,  by  the  studied  accidents 
of  bubbles,  corrugation,  striae,  and  unequal  blending  of  the  coloring  matter,  as  to 
authorize  the  hope  of  more  rare  effects  as  yet  unattained.  The  charming  imitations 
of  precious  stones  — old  ruby,  topaz,  purple,  and  even  moss  agate  and  gold  stone  — 
literally  put  to  blush  the  thin,  garish,  and  crude  material  that  was  but  a short  time 
back  dignified  by  the  name  of  stained  glass,  that  was  not,  strictly  speaking,  stained, 
but  painted  glass,  a poor  quality  of  clear  glass  covered  on  one  side  with  a thin  coat- 
ing of  enamel  paint,  harsh,  raw,  and  wholly  unsightly  as  a decorative  medium.  It  is 
no  matter  for  wonderment  that  active  and  artistic  minds  should  see  the  beauties 
and  strive  to  imitate  the  rare  examples  of  antique  work  found  in  the  early  churches 
and  cathedrals  of  Europe. 


In  the  discovery  of  opaque  glass  Mr.  La  Farge  did  much  to  elevate  the  standard 
of  the  art  in  this  country.  This  was,  properly  speaking,  more  of  an  adaptation  than  an 
invention,  as  opaque  fusible  porcelain  existed  long  before  he  applied  it  to  decorative 
uses  ; but  in  thus  adapting  it,  and  in  bringing  out  its  peculiar  and  intrinsic  qualities,  he 
has  so  added  to  its  value  as  to  rightfully  hold  it  under  a patent.  Its  chemical  qualities 
are  the  same  as  fusible  porcelain.  Phosphate  of  lime  (bone  dust),  peroxide  of  tin  or 
arsenic  are  the  coloring  matters  that  give  the  peculiar  fire  so  resembling  the  opal  ; a 
plain  opaque  white  is  produced  by  an  even  mixture  of  the  parts  in  the  melting  pot, 
and  if  it  be  rolled  or  corrugated  a shifting  play  of  colors  results,  as  well  as  different 
degrees  of  translucency.  This  material  has  added  greatly  to  the  value  of  glass,  as  it 
may  be  used  with  such  rich  and  varied  results  in  the  composition  of  a window,  and 
can  be  combined  in  the  pot  with  the  positive  colored  glasses  with  the  same  result  as 
an  opal  backing,  where  a direct  transmission  of  light  is  not  desirable.  Every  possible 
and,  in  some  instances,  impossible  resource  has  been  brought  to  bear  to  bring  about 
rich  and  eccentric  effects  in  this  material ; a notably  good  one  is  that  of  modeling  or 
molding  the  hot  metal  into  the  semblance  of  a bird,  flower,  or  other  required  form. 
An  elegant  window  by  Mr.  La  Farge  has  pond  lily  buds  and  flowers,  molded  in  such 
a manner  as  to  represent  not  only  the  form  but  the  foreshortening  as  well,  produced  in 
part  by  inequalities  in  the  thickness  of  the  glass. 

Much  more  may  be  said  of  the  beauties,  diversities  ot  texture,  and  rare  qualities 
of  American  glass,  and  of  its  combinations,  both  excellent  and  otherwise,  than 
we  have  either  space  or  time  to  give  to  it;  for  no  one  but  a soft-hearted 
optimist  will  allow  that  these  combinations  are  all  good,  beautiful,  and  harmo- 
nious, simply  because  they  are  the  work  of  noted  artists,  for  many  of  them  are 
but  experiments,  stepping-stones  to  rare  and  idealistic  results  in  days  to  come, 
and  indicate  a wider  range  of  possibilities  than  did  the  mediaeval  artists  in  this 
material  even  dare  dream  of  in  days  gone  by.  The  artists  who  have  made  this 
art  a study  are  deserv  ing  of  high  praise  for  their  untiring  energy  and  persever- 
ance in  dealing  with  a difficult  and  trying  medium.  So  essential  is  the  blending 
and  harmonizing  of  tones  and  colors — “a  knowledge  of  the  relative  value  of 
colors,”  as  Viollet  le  Due  says, — that  artistic  faculty  of  a very  high  standard  is 
absolutely  necessary,  to  insure  their  skillful  arrangement  and  harmonious  distri- 
bution, in  the  composition  of  these  semi-transparent  pictures.  Such  artists  we 
now  have,  whose  united  efforts  bid  fair  to  give  us  soon  a distinctive  American 
school  of  stained  glass ; and  if  the  progress  so  far  is  but  equaled  in  the  future, 
it  is  safe  to  say  that  we  may  fear  nothing  from  our  foreign  competitors  in  this 
beautiful  branch  of  art  industry. 

Edward  Dewson 


PORTRAIT  PAINTING; 

ITS  DEMANDS  AND  OPPORTUNITIES 


O THP3  close  student  of  the  history  of  painting  the 
thought  might  occur,  that  in  the  event  of  the  gradual 
decay  and  ultimate  extinction  of  the  fine  arts,  the 
practice  of  portraiture  would  be  found  to  have  a 
greater  vitality  than  any  other,  and  be  the  last  to 
disappear.  As  nearly  as  we  can  determine  a point 
necessarily  so  obscure  as  the  manner  in  which  the 
arts  of  design  were  born,  it  is  probable  that  the  first 
efforts  of  man  in  this  direction  were  employed  in  a 
description  of  the  human  figure.  If  no  better  sup- 
port for  this  opinion  were  furnished  us,  we  might  find  something  significant  in  the  first 
exploits  of  the  child  with  his  slate  and  pencil,  who,  in  saying  to  himself,  as  he  invariably 
does,  “ I will  make  a man,”  is  evidently  doing  nothing  less  than  giving  testimony  to 
the  important  truth  that  the  art  of  portraiture,  in  its  very  nature,  makes  the  strongest 
claim  upon  human  interest  and  endeavor.  Observation  will  also  show  that  this 
impulse  of  the  child  is  seldom  mastered  wholly  by  the  mature  artist,  who  generally 
declares,  by  more  or  less  persistent  efforts  in  this  field,  even  when  it  is  far  removed 
from  his  ordinary  practice,  that  he  cannot  resist  the  fascinations  which  the  human  face 
and  form  exert  upon  him.  If  one  were  inclined  to  state  rather  broadly  a principle 
which  he  wished  should  appeal  strongly  to  his  audience,  he  might  even  allege  that 
very  few  artists  of  great  ability  in  any  line  have  ever  existed  who  have  not  produced 
excellent  work  in  portraiture.  The  old  masters  furnish  us  abundant  support  of  this 
truth,  and  so,  also,  do  most  of  the  famous  moderns,  among  whom,  as  at  the  same 
time  an  extreme  and  illustrious  instance,  may  be  mentioned  Corot,  who  found  even 
his  dreamy  and  ultra-poetic  style  to  be  by  no  means  an  inappropriate  medium  for  the 
expression  of  human  life  and  emotion.  The  subject  thus  touched  upon  opens  into 


attractive  vistas  for  argument  and  speculation  ; but  in  the  scope  of  an  article  as  brief 
as  the  present  evasion  necessitates,  the  merest  allusion  to  it  is  alone  permissible,  and 
it  must  be  dismissed  after  having  served  the  purpose  of  showing  how  clearly  related 
to  all  forms  of  art  is  the  practice  of  portrait  painting,  and  how,  in  a large  sense,  it 
influences,  even  when  it  does  not  dominate,  an  artistic  nature.  It  would  seem,  then, 
from  a consideration  of  the  early  and  continued  influence  which  it  exerts,  that  the  art 
of  portraiture  is  likely  to  be  held  in  high  esteem  as  long  as  the  members  of  the  human 
race  have  the  capacity  to  receive  emotions,  and  the  power  to  express  them,  through 
whatsoever  media,  for  the  pleasure  or  instruction  of  their  fellows.  We  cannot  conceive 
of  an  art  more  honorable  than  this,  which  in  its  lowest  estate  sets  for  itself  the  task  of 
describing  with  literal  exactness  the  face  and  form  that  are  fashioned  in  the  image  of 
God,  and  in  its  highest  has  to  do  with  giving  expression  to  that  supreme  gift  of  the 
Creator,  Thought,  without  which  there  can  be  no  true  life,  either  in  man  or  art. 

Yet,  like  other  arts  that  are  rich  in  possibilities,  this  one  makes  exacting 
demands,  and  presents  difficulties  which  not  one  painter  in  a score  has  the  patience  or 
knowledge  to  set  himself  about  surmounting,  nor  one  in  a hundred  that  combination 
of  sensibility  and  force  which  shall  make  him  their  master.  One  who  devotes  himself 
earnestly  to  the  study  of  art  soon  learns  that  a good  portrait  painter  must  possess  a 
great  number  of  qualifications  that  are  rarely  found  associated  together.  He  must  be 
something  more  than  a draughtsman,  although  he  should  draw  consummately,  too ; he 
must  be  a colorist  who  is  not  only  learned  in  the  use  of  rich  and  brilliant  pigments, 
but  is  able  also  to  impress  one  quite  as  strongly  of  the  vigor  of  his  color-sense  with  a 
black,  a white,  and  an  umber ; he  must  understand  the  value  of  expression  and  know 
how  both  to  evoke  and  describe  it ; he  must  be  a man  of  sympathy  with  human  nature 
and  appreciative  alike  of  its  pathos  and  humor  — not  to  mention  a modesty  in  the 
estimation  of  his  own  work,  which,  at  the  best,  is  always  discouraging  to  one  who  can 
perceive  how  far  behind  nature  the  most  ambitious  and  successful  eflbrt  lags.  Yet  no 
profession  that  has  its  roots  in  art  is  entered  upon  with  less  thought  and  hesitation.  A 
slight  experience  in  the  simplest  elements  of  drawing,  a facility  in  catching  a likeness, 
the  merest  rudiments  of  a knowledge  of  color  or  the  effects  of  light  and  shade  — these 
are  the  equipments  with  which,  on  every  side  of  us,  men  and  women  are  rushing  into 
the  practice  of  this  difficult  and  exacting  art.  But  in  this  matter  they  are  not  wholly  to 
blame,  for  the  schools  that  send  them  out,  and  the  public  to  whom  they  appeal,  share 
their  ignorance  of  the  fact  that  portraiture  has  concern  in  any  other  matter  than 
getting  a likeness,  or  that  a recognizable  description  of  a man  or  woman  can  be,  in 
spite  of  its  exactness,  unworthy  of  consideration  as  a work  of  art.  Likeness  is,  of 
course,  an  important  thing  in  a portrait ; but  it  becomes  worthless  when  unsupported 
by  nobler  qualities,  as  it  is  in  the  majority  of  the  works  that  crowd  our  exhibitions. 
The  value  to  all  generations  of  such  a portrait  as  Stuart’s  “ General  Knox,”  in  the 
Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  which  it  were  to  be  desired  might  be  more  closely 
studied  both  by  painters  and  public  than  it  seems  to  be,  consists  not  so  much  in  its 
likeness  to  the  man  (in  which  respect  we  have  no  means  of  knowing  whether  it  is 
strong  or  not)  as  in  the  knowledge  it  gives  of  the  mingled  heroism  and  recklessness 
of  his  character,  his  love  of  living  and  his  contempt  of  death,  and  the  evident  appro- 
priateness of  his  leadership  among  an  heroic  and  indomitable  people  in  the  face  of  such 
a crisis  as  the  War  for  American  Independence.  The  present  time  is  not  rich  in  such 


characters ; yet  a portrait  is  not  valuable  simply  because  a hero  sat  for  it ; every  man 
has  a distinct  relation  to  his  time,  and  it  is  the  business  of  an  artist,  and  quite  in  his 
power  if  he  has  such  qualifications  as  Stuart  possessed,  to  find  out  what  this  is,  and  to 
express  it  as  far  as  his  opportunities  and  skill  will  allow. 

Beside  making  his  picture  characteristic,  the  portrait  painter  is  bound,  by  a 
proper  regard  for  his  art,  to  make  it  beautiful.  This  he  may  always  do,  no  matter 
what  his  subject  is,  if  he  has  but  carefully  considered  in  what  beauty  consists.  It 
is  one  of  the  greatest  charms  of  art  that  it  can  beautify  anything,  and  that,  too, 
without  doing  violence  to  truth,  which,  if  lost,  makes  beauty  itself  repulsive.  The 
artist,  however,  cannot  make  his  work  beautiful  by  flattering  his  subject,  for  here  he 
forgets  his  allegiance  to  the  truth,  and  presents  something  for  which  he  has  no  war- 
rant. It  might  seem  at  first  sight  that  if  he  cannot  replace  that  which  is  ugly  by 
something  which  he  draws  from  the  stores  of  ideal  beauty  in  his  own  mind,  he  must 
consent  to  have  his  picture  ugly ; but  this  is  far  from  being  the  case.  Beautifying  a 
painting  at  the  expense  of  verity  rarely  achieves  any  other  purpose  than  to  show  the 
inanity  and  insipidity  of  the  artist’s  mind,  and  can  result  in  nothing  more  than  a mere 
prettiness,  which  mildly  pleases  at  first,  but  in  the  end  exasperates.  The  true  beauty 
of  a portrait  is  that  which  shows  the  intelligence  of  the  artist,  and  is  manifested  by  the 
skillful  employment  of  light  and  shadow,  the  submerging  of  the  face  in  a luminous  or 
sombre  atmosphere,  the  relief  of  one  texture  against  another,  the  modification  of  flesh- 
tones  that  are  in  themselves  disagreeable  by  the  appropriate  use  of  adjacent  tints  or 
of  colors  in  the  background  or  draperies  — nay,  even  by  the  sparkle  of  an  eye,  full  of 
life  and  humor,  which  often  reclaims  and  beautifies  a face  that  is  otherwise  common- 
place and  unengaging.  A subject  which  mere  literal  description  can  make  interesting 
does  not  appeal  to  the  true  artist,  who  finds  more  real  beauty  in  the  coarse  cheeks, 
wrinkled  brow,  and  weather-beaten  skin  of  the  sailor  or  husbandman  than  in  the 
peachy  complexion  and  melting  contours  of  the  court  beauty ; so  that  it  happens  that 
the  greatest  portraits  the  world  knows  are  not  of  the  most  beautiful  women  that  have 
graced  this  planet,  but  rather  of  men  upon  whose  living  face  we  should  not  feel 
impelled  to  look  twice,  yet  to  whose  presentment  on  canvas  or  panel  the  painter  has 
given  a hint  of  that  which  surpasses  nature  — the  infinite  beauty  of  truth  when  pro- 
claimed by  knowledge  and  sympathy.  There  is  a beauty  which  even  those  who  are  the 
least  appreciative  of  intelligence  and  virtue  can  understand  ; but  there  is  in  a good  por- 
trait a psychological  interest  greater  than  comes  from  this,  which  appeals  only  to  the 
few,  but  upon  which  the  chief  value  of  the  work  depends.  Every  year  produces  por- 
traits upon  whose  richness  of  color,  exactness  and  suppleness  of  drawing,  and  life-like 
expression  we  love  to  linger,  but  which,  nevertheless,  cannot  give  full  satisfaction  to  the 
mind  that  has  inquired  into  the  resources  and  demands  of  art.  Not  until  the  painter 
goes  deeper  than  he  needs  to  do  in  producing  such  results,  and  sees  and  analyzes  the 
mind  and  soul  of  his  subject,  does  the  perfect  portrait  appear.  It  is  at  the  two  points 
mentioned  above  that  most  of  the  portrait  art  of  our  land  and  time  makes  failure.  Much 
of  the  very  clever  and  promising  work  that  our  younger  men  are  now  turning  out  with 
such  surprising  facility  shows  neither  the  thought  of  how  ugly  things  may  be  made 
beautiful,  nor  the  patience  to  study  into  the  sources  of  those  emotions  which  line  the 
human  face  and  give  it  all  its  lasting  interest.  Their  work  shows  admirable  dex- 
terity, and  an  enthusiastic  labor,  which  make  it  interesting  in  spite  of  its  defects ; but 


it  is  altogether  superficial  and  shallow,  and  makes  no  account  of  that  painstaking 
observation  and  refined  and  loving  description  without  which  no  portrait  can  bring 
claim  to  recognition  as  an  example  of  the  noblest  art. 

Here,  as  often  happens  in  the  discussion  of  matters  of  art,  we  find  ourselves  con- 
fronted with  the  question ; “How  is  this  condition  of  affairs  to  be  remedied?”  A 
puzzling  interrogatory  this,  and  one  which  time,  and  the  events  that  come  with  it, 
rather  than  words,  must  answer.  Briefly,  however,  it  may  be  said  that  the  improve- 
ment which  our  portrait  art  needs  — and  not  only  ours,  but  much  of  that  which  is 
shown  by  the  other  nations  of  the  day  — can  come  only  by  the  growth  in  advanced 
opinion  of  both  the  artists  and  the  public.  The  artists,  naturally,  do  not  feel  dis- 
posed to  waste  their  time  in  painting  pictures  which  the  public  cannot  appreciate, 
nor  are  the  public  likely  to  advance  more  rapidly  than  the  artists  can  lead  them. 
Both,  however,  can  accomplish  much  by  improving  their  knowledge  of  the  province 
and  power  of  art,  and  learning  to  understand  that,  like  all  the  other  exercises  of 
man,  it  is  a weak  and  valueless  thing  if  it  is  not  the  expression  of  thought.  A higher 
moral,  as  well  as  intellectual,  appreciation  is  also  necessary,  and  this  especially  to  the 
artist,  for  never  yet  did  portrait  painter  live  who  did  not  show  himself  as  well  as  his 
sitter  on  the  canvas.  No  man  can  paint  the  beauty  of  character  who  does  not  himself 
possess  it,  and  no  artist’s  work  is  better  than  himself ; it  may  be  full  of  refinement  and 
show  supreme  skill,  while  from  its  beauty  leers  the  face  of  evil,  as  the  eyes  of  the 
serpent  looked  from  the  Tree  of  Knowledge  amid  the  peace  and  repose  of  Eden. 

Sidney  Dickinson 


LANDSCAPE  ART 


HE  love  of  landscape  is  assuredly  one  of  the  most  ele- 
vating passions  of  which  vile  man  is  capable.  If  land- 
scape is  not  the  highest  expression  of  the  painter’s  art, 
it  is  the  sweetest,  because  the  kind  of  pleasure  which 
it  gives  is  unalloyed,  pure,  and  peaceful. 

Great  pictures  sometimes  trouble  the  mind,  and  leave 
a sad  impression  ; but  in  landscape  we  get  away  from 
the  tragedies  of  life,  and  renew  ourselves  in  studying 
the  eternal  beauty  of  the  sky  and  the  fields,  which 
have  their  messages  of  comfort  for  those  who  can  read 
them. 

In  the  great  picture  galleries,  when  the  mind  becomes  overweighted  with  impres- 
sions of  history  and  character,  we  sit  down  before  a Claude,  and  rest  in  the  shadow  of 
his  trees,  fanned  by  fresh  breezes,  and  gently  warmed  by  the  rays  of  his  glorious  sun. 
Thus,  the  landscapist  should  be  happy,  in  virtue  not  only  of  the  great  resources  of  his 
art,  but  also  of  the  mission  of  his  works,  which  is  to  bring  peace  to  troubled  souls,  to 
show  to  eyes  weary  of  winter  how  summer  seems.  The  most  wholesome  study  is  the 
study  of  nature,  for  nature  is  never  morbid.  We  were  not  made  to  mope  indoors  and 
pore  over  books  the  year  round.  Though  we  may  say  with  Hamlet,  “ Man  delights 
not  me  ; no,  nor  woman  neither,”  the  time  never  comes  when  we  can  quarrel  with  the 
Universal  Mother.  For  the  painter  of  portraits,  o{ genre,  or  of  historical  compositions, 
landscapes  are  a recreation,  in  more  than  the  conventional  sense  of  the  word  ; he  gets 
back  to  the  right  point  of  view  by  going  out  of  doors,  after  being  harassed  by  the 
meanness  and  the  contradictions  of  men.  The  eternal  freshness  and  youth  of  nature 
revive  and  console  him ; its  even  temper  stills  his  fretted  nerves.  This  perpetual 
peacefulness  shows  him  the  folly  of  petty  struggles.  He  loses  the  self-consciousness 
which  is  so  fatal  to  good  art,  and  learns  the  value  of  repose. 

Because  landscape  art  is  modern,  its  relative  importance  is  often  underrated.  The 
Americans  have  every  reason  to  feel  that,  in  this  department,  they  have  already  done 
more  than  in  any  other  which  is  actually  good  enough  to  bear  comparison  with  foreign 
work.  Yet  what  has  been  done  is  only  the  beginning.  All  competent  judges  expect 
to  see  glorious  achievements  in  landscape  here;  the  signs  of  it  are  in  the  air. 


Landscape,  as  all  art,  must  of  necessity  be  a matter  of  tradition.  Titian  and  Paul 
Veronese,  Correggio,  and  the  school  of  the  Caracci  used  landscape  to  set  off  their 
figures,  but  their  landscapes  can  scarcely  be  called  backgrounds,  for  they  played  an 
important  part  in  the  pictures.  For  breadth,  dignity,  and  sober  richness  of  tone,, 
these  have  never  been  excelled.  But  it  remained  for  the  Dutch  and  Flemish  painters, 
and  the  Franco- Italians,  Claude  and  Poussin,  to  make  a special  study  of  landscape,  in 
its  real  and  literal  aspects,  and  we  may  date  the  modern  era  of  which  I shall  speak 
from  their  appearance  on  the  scene.  Ruysdael’s  mountain  cascades  have  furnished 
material  for  numberless  compositions,  and  the  same  may  be  said  of  Hobbema’s  wooded 
landscapes  and  canal  locks,  or  Cuyp’s  tranquil  Dutch  scenes  with  cattle  and  figures 
bathed  in  a golden  evening  atmosphere.  The  suggestiveness  and  dash  of  some  of 
Rubens’s  landscapes  has  never  been  equaled.  Claude’s  Mediterranean  ports,  with 
their  balmy,  soft,  glowing  atmosphere,  and  his  affluent  Italian  sunset  effects,  still  reign 
supreme  in  the  popular  estimation. 

The  first  English  landscape  painter  of  note  was  Richard  Wilson,  of  whom  his 
compatriots  are  justly  proud  at  the  present  day,  but  so  little  was  he  appreciated  by  his 
contemporaries  that  he  could  not  earn  a living,  and  the  Royal  Academy  had  to  make 
a situation  for  him  as  librarian.  At  the  same  period  De  Loutherbourg  and  others,  now 
almost  forgotten,  enjoyed  royal  and  aristocratic  patronage  and  made  large  sums  of 
money.  Gainsborough,  who  painted  landscapes  as  well  as  figures  in  a large,  noble,  and 
free  style,  was  among  the  early  great  national  painters  of  England.  His  cool,  gray, 
silvery  tones  gave  the  key-note  to  Constable,  who  was  the  first  to  render  the 
atmosphere,  tone,  color,  and  native  character  of  English  landscape  with  all  the  fidelity 
of  the  Dutch  in  their  treatment  of  Holland.  The  massive  gray  clouds  loaded  with  rain, 
with  here  and  there  a streak  of  sunlight  breaking  over  the  distant  plain;  the  breezy 
atmosphere  and  peculiarly  English  vitality  of  the  effect,  were  given  by  Constable  as  no 
one  else  had  been  able  to  give  them.  He  carried  realism  further  in  some  directions 
than  any  of  his  predecessors.  It  is  beyond  doubt  that  the  great  French  landscape 
school  of  1830  received  a great  impetus  from  Constable.  The  peculiar  quality  of 
Turner’s  genius,  and  the  exuberance  of  his  fancy  have  conspired  to  produce  a wide 
diversity  of  opinion  concerning  him.  He  valued  landscape,  as  a poet  values  facts, 
only  for  its  suggestions  and  as  it  fed  his  riotous  imagination.  In  early  life  he  fol- 
lowed Claude  somewhat  in  landscape  and  the  Dutchmen,  whom  Ruskin  so  eloquently 
reviles,  in  the  treatment  of  marine  subjects  ; but  in  wealth  of  imagination,  vigor  of 
execution,  and  robustness  of  texture  he  far  excelled  those  by  whom  he  was  influenced. 
It  is  conceded  that  his  later  work,  performed  when  many  rivals  thought  him  crazy, 
shows  the  greatest  height  of  imagination  and  power  as  a colorist.  He  had  not  the 
great  repose  of  Claude,  but  his  power,  like  that  of  Tintoret,  was  peculiarly  his  own. 

Rousseau,  with  Jules  Dupre  and  several  others  not  so  well  known,  were  the 
pioneers  in  the  French  school  of  1830,  which  has  so  strongly  affected  all  modern  art. 
Rousseau’s  early  works  were  full  of  a fiery  impetuosity  and  daring  which  was  utterly 
at  variance  with  the  smooth,  facile  elaboration  then  in  vogue.  He  was  a finished  and 
accurate  draughtsman,  and  had  an  elegant  idea  of  composition  and  arrangement. 
Later  in  life  his  desire  to  make  his  pictures  as  complete  as  possible,  and  to  sustain 
their  market  value,  gave  to  some  of  his  productions  an  appearance  of  laborious  pains- 
taking and  finish  which  detracted  from  their  highest  charm.  Dupre,  at  his  best,  has 


painted  with  a boldness  and  nerve  not  often  equaled.  On  the  other  hand,  he  has 
turned  out  many  mannered  pictures.  Of  Gustave  Courbet  it  may  be  said  that  he 
created  his  style,  and  that  no  painter  has  more  courageously  grappled  with  the  large 
aspects  of  nature.  His  manner  of  beginning  his  pictures  by  laying  on  a solid  body 
of  color  with  the  palette  knife  gave  uncommon  firmness  and  solidity  to  his  landscapes, 
which  are  destined  to  exert  a more  definite  influence  when  he  is  better  understood. 
Troyon,  who  was  a severe  student,  at  first  painted  landscapes  in  the  classic  style,  with 
much  elaboration  of  detail.  These  brought  him  a good  reputation,  but  not  much 
pecuniary  success.  It  was  not  until  he  introduced  cattle  and  figures,  giving  the  reins 
to  his  nature,  painting  realistic  and  pastoral  subjects,  and  drawing  his  inspiration  from 
things  seen,  that  he  attained  his  great  renown.  Daubigny,  one  of  the  powers  in 
modern  art,  was  a man  of  great  originality,  who  had  more  power  in  the  presence  of 
nature  than  ideal  resource.  He  had  many  styles.  His  afternoon  effects  on  the  rivers 
of  France  are  most  poetical,  true,  and  exquisite  in  their  gray  tones.  Some  of  them 
are  painted  with  a force,  decision,  and  completeness  which  are  extraordinary  when  it 
is  considered  that  they  were  done  at  one  painting  off-hand.  No  one  has  the  faculty 
in  so  high  a degree  as  had  Daubigny  of  giving  a free,  luminous,  and  vivid  represen- 
tation of  the  most  fleeting  aspects  of  nature.  Not  so  delicate  as  Corot,  he  had  a 
distinctive  genius,  with  equal  love  and  reverence  for  nature.  It  must  be  universally 
admitted  that  in  Corot  the  great  French  landscape  school  found  its  most  genuinely- 
inspired  man,  a creative  genius  of  the  highest  order.  He  could  not  touch  anything 
without  turning  it  into  poetry.  Subtle,  modest,  and  true,  the  best  examples  of  his 
later  style  have  a charm  which  is  as  inexplicable  in  words  as  the  charm  of  nature 
itself.  Millet,  though  more  widely  recognized  as  a figure  painter,  had  an  extraordi- 
nary genius  for  the  infinite  in  landscape.  He  essayed  all  effects,  in  all  sorts  of 
materials, — oil  and  water  colors,  pastels,  crayons,  and  pencil, — and  if  his  works 
wherein  landscape  forms  the  subject  either  wholly  or  in  part  could  be  brought  together, 
they  would  show  a depth  of  sentiment  and  a variety  of  subject  and  effect  which  is  to 
most  minds  incomprehensible.  There  are  other  Frenchmen  of  whom  it  would  not  be 
inapt  to  speak,  but  I must  hasten  on  to  the  Americans. 

Thomas  Cole  may  be  called  the  father  of  American  landscape.  He  had  a true 
poetic  vein  and  an  artistic  temperament.  In  point  of  earnestness  and  talent  he  was 
preeminent  among  the  landscapists  of  his  time,  and  he  had  a genuine  love  for  nature, 
especially  the  country  about  the  Catskill  Mountains.  His  more  ambitious  works,  the 
“ Voyage  of  Life  ” and  “ Course  of  Empire  ” were  not  so  successful  as  his  strong  im- 
pressions of  nature.  A contemporary  of  Cole’s  was  Doughty,  whose  name  will  be 
recalled  by  a few  of  the  elder  generation  as  that  of  a delightful  painter.  He  painted 
in  a facile,  picturesque  manner,  and  employed  a neutral  tone  which  at  one  time  was 
very  much  in  vogue.  It  is  said  that  the  resident  British  minister  at  Washington  paid 
him  twenty-five  hundred  dollars  for  a picture  — a great  price  in  those  days.  A few 
years  later  came  Durand,  Kensett,  and  Church,  who  were  very  successful.  Church,  as 
a very  young  man,  was  hailed  as  a genius.  It  became  the  fashion  to  say  that  we  had 
the  greatest  landscape  school  in  the  world.  Church  produced  some  fine  twilight 
effects,  and  his  realistic  “ Niagara”  made  a sensation  here  and  in  England.  He  had 
great  facility,  but  never  grew  out  of  a hard,  literal  style  of  manipulation  and  a fatal 
attention  to  minutiae,  so  that  the  extravagant  anticipations  of  his  admirers  were  never 


realized.  Durand  painted  wood  interiors  and  mountain  scenery  with  close  fidelity  ; he 
was  a good  draughtsman,  and  had  a considerable  degree  of  sympathy  with  certain 
phases  of  nature.  One  of  his  ideal  compositions,  engraved  by  James  Smillie,  adorns 
an  old  book  of  poetry  in  my  library,  and  I have  always  thought  it  charming  in  a cer- 
tain quaint  way.  Kensett,  who  had  studied  in  Europe  several  years,  also  painted 
wood  interiors  with  a certain  poetry  and  delicacy  of  color.  He  treated  the  hazy, 
dreamy  afternoons  of  the  White  Mountains  and  the  beach  at  Newport,  with  a sympa- 
thetic, facile  sketchiness  that  at  first  was  most  agreeable  ; but  his  success  was  so  great 
that  he  seemed  to  think  more  of  getting  a huge  price  at  the  Artists’  Fund  or  other 
sales  fora  mere  sketch  than  of  making  a sturdy  representation  of  nature.  James  Hart 
produced  some  original  misty  morning  impressions  among  the  Adirondacks  that  gave 
promise  of  something  new,  but  early  pecuniary  success  appears  to  have  impeded  his 
growth,  and  he  became  a mere  picture-maker.  McEntee  began  in  a new  vein  with 
some  very  good  Virginian  subjects,  but  he  has  turned  out  little  of  late  except  some 
autumn  scenes  very  much  resembling  those  that  first  made  him  known.  About  1850 
Mr.  Baker  opened  the  “ Dusseldorf  Gallery  ” in  New-York,  with  landscapes  by  Lessing, 
Gude,  and  the  Achenbachs,  which  had  a marked  influence  on  the  artists  and  art 
students.  Many  young  men,  including  Hart,  Bierstadt,  Whittredge,  and  others,  went 
to  study  in  Dusseldorf  The  works  of  these  men  are  well  enough  known,  and  Bier- 
stadt’s,  at  least,  have  received  a full  measure  of  criticism.  Though  taste  is  so  con- 
stantly changing,  it  is  not  likely  we  shall  ever  return  to  the  admiration  of  what  may 
be  called  the  Rocky  Mountain  school  of  landscape.  Among  the  early  landscape 
painters  of  New-York,  of  whom  I have  spoken,  forming  the  “ Hudson  River  School,” 
Cole  was  the  only  one  who  really  had  a strong,  vigorous  method.  Of  Inness,  who  has 
lived  in  Boston  and  New-York  and  abroad,  it  may  be  said  that  he  was  one  of  the  first 
to  perceive  the  importance  of  the  French  renaissance  represented  by  Rousseau, 
Troyon,  and  Dupre.  His  works  have  been  very  uneven  in  quality,  yet  he  has  always 
tried  to  represent  a vivid  impression,  and  his  treatment  of  a composition  is  always 
picturesque.  He  seems  to  have  been,  even  more  than  most  other  painters,  bothered 
by  the  refractory  nature  of  his  materials ; but  in  his  best  landscapes  one  feels  a striving 
after  something  large,  noble,  and  dignified.  Inness’s  works,  though  they  are  some- 
times heavy  and  disagreeable  in  color,  or  wanting  in  textures,  are  of  the  kind  that 
improve  on  acquaintance. 

Though  William  M.  Hunt  for  many  years  painted  portraits  almost  exclusively, 
he  had  always  a great  love  of  landscape,  and  was  one  of  the  first  to  appreciate  Courbet 
and  Corot  as  well  as  Millet.  His  own  landscapes  show  great  artistic  resources  and 
that  he  knew  what  is  required  to  bring  a work  of  this  kind  up  to  the  demands  of  art. 
Since  Hunt,  many  young  men  from  all  parts  of  the  country  have  been  studying  in 
Paris,  and  have  caught  the  inspiration  of  the  great  school  there  now  passing  away. 
Those  students  who  went  from  New  England  have  apparently  seized  its  larger 
elements,  as  was  abundantly  shown  by  the  Boston  artists’  exhibition  in  New  York  in 
the  winter  of  1883.  Having  studied  what  has  been  done,  they  turn  back  to  nature, 
knowing  that  it  remains  for  each  man  finally  to  work  out  his  own  problems.  Some 
of  them  are  producing  works  of  art  stamped  with  their  own  personality,  which  will 
stand  the  test  of  time  and  intelligent  criticism.  Painters  in  the  larger  sense  of  the 
word,  they  do  not  think  how  much  they  are  going  to  .receive  for  their  pictures,  but 


whether  their  works  are  well  done  and  intelligent ; they  do  not  paint  to  suit  the  whim 
of  a small  coterie  of  friends,  but  to  satisfy  the  larger  requirements  of  art.  This  is  the 
true  spirit  of  the  artist. 

I conclude  with  the  following  words  of  lofty  wisdom  from  Emerson,  commending 
them  as  a precious  expression  of  the  creed  of  the  idealist : 

“ In  landscapes,  the  painter  should  give  the  suggestion  of  a fairer  creation  than 
we  know.  The  details,  the  prose  of  nature  he  should  omit,  and  give  us  only  the  spirit 
and  splendor.  He  should  know  that  the  landscape  has  beauty  for  his  eye,  because  it 
expresses  a thought  which  is  to  him  good  ; and  this,  because  the  same  power  which  sees 
through  his  eyes  is  seen  in  that  spectacle  ; and  he  will  come  to  value  the  expression 
of  nature,  and  not  nature  itself,  and  so  exalt  in  his  copy  the  features  that  please  him. 
He  will  give  the  gloom  of  gloom  and  the  sunshine  of  sunshine.” 

William  Howe  Downes 


THE  WEAL  IN  AMERICAN  ART 


T IS  frequently  said  of  American  art  that  it  can  never 
reach  that  which  is  best  and  highest ; that  it  may  excel 
in  technical  skill,  glory  in  richness  and  beauty  of  color, 
and  skillfully  touch  the  lighter  moods  of  being  ; but  that 
it  can  never  reach  the  artistic  highlands,  can  never  gain  an 
elevation  of  motive  and  accomplishment  that  will  give  the 
American  school  a high  and  honorable  place  among  the 
nations  that  have  achieved  much  in  art.  And  the  reason 
that  is  given  for  this  belief  is  the  American  life  and  char- 
acter. It  is  said  that,  being  a democracy,  the  lower  tastes 
of  the  majority  will  pull  down  and  overrule  the  finer,  higher  desires  of  the  refined 
and  cultured  few,  demand  that  our  art  attend  upon  its  pleasures,  and,  being  unable 
to  appreciate  anything  above  mediocrity,  mediocre  art  will  be  the  result ; that  even  if 
this  were  not  the  case,  there  is  nothing  in  our  national  life  and  character  to  furnish 
that  deep  but  all  important  substratum  of  fine,  intense  feeling,  that  whole-hearted 
appreciation  of  beauty  and  grandeur  from  which  only  can  high  artistic  genius  be  born 
and  nourished  ; that  we  are  too  volatile,  material,  and  superficial  to  give  birth  to  any- 
thing but  a superficial  and  material  art  — an  art  that  cannot  send  its  roots  deep  down 
into  the  finest  and  highest  meanings  of  life  and  nature,  simply  because  art  cannot  go 
deeper  than  the  life  and  character  of  the  people  who  give  its  inspiration,  who  furnish 
its  sustenance,  and  whose  demands  set  forth  the  measure  of  its  growth.  In  short,  that 
the  ideal  cannot  find  representation  and  interpretation  in  our  art,  because  it  has  no 
part  in  the  hurried,  turbulent,  money-measured  lives  of  our  people. 

For  it  is  in  the  ideal  that  art  reaches  its  highest  achievement  and  speaks  its  last 
and  grandest  word.  Not  the  ideal  in  the  commoner  meaning  it  is  too  often  coming 
to  have,  of  the  mostly  or  wholly  imaginary, — served  either  with  or  without  imagina- 
tion,— but  that  ideal  which  shows  the  deep  realities  of  life  and  nature  as  they  are 
revealed  to  the  eye  of  genius.  The  art  that  is  the  most  ideal  is,  at  the  same  time,  the 
most  real.  It  takes  the  facts,  the  conditions,  the  results  of  life  and  character,  and 
strips  from  them  their  disguise  of  the  earthy  and  the  commonplace,  and  shows  that 


each  is  an  eternal  sphere-song  of  hope,  or  joy,  or  trust,  or  sorrow.  It  is  only  the 
highest  ideal  that  can  see  the  deepest  real.  Could  art  be  more  truly  realistic  than  in 
Millet’s  “Angelus  ” ? And  at  the  same  time  to  such  an  elevation  did  the  artist  carry 
its  significance,  so  truly  and  deeply  ideal  did  he  make  it,  that  it  fills  the  beholder  at 
once  with  awe  of  its  meaning.  And  it  is  this  ability  to  take  the  common  emotions 
and  passions  of  life,  throw  off  their  disguise  of  the  commonplace,  clothe  them  in  beauty 
and  grandeur,  pass  them  through  the  crucible  of  his  own  finer  and  higher  nature, 
show  them  so  elevated  and  intensified  and  purified  that  we  see  them  only  far  up  the 
heights,  but  yet  still  so  universal  and  comprehensive  in  their  meaning  that  there  can  be 
none  to  whom  they  do  not  speak, — it  is  this  ability  that  is  the  highest  and  grandest 
dower  of  the  artist,  its  results  that  are  the  finest  and  most  beneficent  gifts  of  art.  And 
it  is  this  that  the  pessimistic  critic  says  we  can  never  achieve,  because  we  live  on  the 
lower  levels,  and  because  our  art  must  be  for  the  many,  and  not  for  the  cultured  few  ; 
because  in  the  dead  level  of  a prosperous  and  commonplace  democracy  there  can  be 
no  inspiration  to  such  achievement. 

These  are  severe  and  sorrowful  predictions,  and  if  they  could  be  believed  to  have 
the  slightest  likelihood  of  truth  would  be  sufficient  to  put  a damper  on  the  aspirations 
and  a bar  across  the  achievements  of  every  American  artist.  Nor  is  it  a mere  man 
of  straw  that  has  been  conjured  up  ; for  such  a despondent  tone,  more  or  less  pro- 
nounced, is  met  with  very  frequently.  If  one  went  no  farther  than  the  apparent 
manifestations  of  American  character  there  might  be  reason  for  it.  But  a close 
inspection  of  our  national  character  must  show  that,  however  hurrying  and  superficial 
we  seem  to  be,  we  do  not  lack  a deep,  pervasive,  warm,  human  sympathy.  And, 
primarily,  what  is  the  genius  which  produces  such  art,  what  is  the  genius  which 
produces  any  art  or  which  sets  forth  any  great  achievement,  but  sympathy  ? What 
was  Millet’s  whole  being  but  one  ever  vibrating  nerve  of  human  affection,  compassion, 
sympathy  ? Whence  does  any  artist,  poet,  novelist,  receive  inspiration  but  through 
his  wealth  of  sympathetic  feeling,  which  enables  him  to  enter  into  all  human  life  ? 
This  fine,  warm,  universal  sympathy  is  the  first  requisite  of  the  artist,  and  the  prime 
necessity,  especially,  of  him  who  would  portray  the  ideal.  The  American  people  are 
richly  dowered  with  this,  and  their  sympathies  are  easily  wrought  upon.  So  far  not 
only  is  there  that  in  our  character  to  furnish  such  inspiration  as  is  needful  to  make 
possible  the  birth  of  such  an  art,  but  the  very  same  characteristic  will  insure  appre- 
ciation of  that  art  when  it  does  come  forth.  Nor  can  the  assertion  stand  that  we  are 
too  material  to  give  finest  and  highest  appreciation  to  the  lofty  and  the  beautiful.  It 
may  have  been  true  once,  but  is  true  no  longer,  for  our  aesthetic  growth  has  been 
simply  marvelous.  We  are  accustomed  to  pride  ourselves  upon  the  rapidity  with 
which  we  have  developed  our  material  resources,  but  this  is  no  more  striking  than 
have  been  our  magical  strides  through  the  finer  products  of  civilization.  Take  the 
testimony  of  a well-known  art  critic  and  man  of  letters,  who  declares  that  after  an 
absence  of  ten  years  in  Europe  he  marvels  at  the  evidences  he  everywhere  sees  of  the 
increase  of  aesthetic  taste,  and  he  emphatically  adds  his  belief  that  “ the  American 
people  will  yet  be  the  idealists  of  the  world.”  And  as  for  the  objection  that 
democracy  must  be  a hindrance  to  artistic  progress  and  barren  of  inspiration, — if  de- 
mocracy is  a dead  level,  it  is  also  an  elevated  plain  and  exalts  life  rather  than  makes 
it  common.  And  whence  does  art  receive  its  inspiration  but  from  the  sentiments. 


emotions,  passions  of  life  about  it,  and  are  not  these  eternally  the  same  in  any  life 
and  under  any  form  of  government  ? 

Our  art,  too,  seems  to  be  growing  in  the  direction  of  the  ideal.  It  has  reached 
the  Stage  of  figure  and  genre  painting  with  which  it  is  now  largely  busy  and  to  which 
the  appreciation  of  the  people  is  most  decidedly  given.  And  genre  is  but  the  unde- 
veloped ideal.  It  is  life  still  seen  through  its  disguise  of  commonplaceness.  Who  can 
say  but  that  the  logical  development  of  our  art  will  be  through  the  elevation  and 
idealization  of  the  genre?  At  present  that  seems  its  direction,  and  with  our  aesthetic 
tastes,  our  appreciation  of  the  grand,  the  lofty,  and  the  beautiful,  so  rapidly  growing, 
and  with  a national  character  so  well  fitted  to  give  both  inspiration  and  appreciation  to 
the  highest  and  finest  in  art,  may  it  not  be  reasonably  expected  that  art  may  yet  reach 
that  finest  and  highest  achievement  ? But  art  is  the  latest  and  most  delicate  flower 
of  civilization,  and  cannot  appear  in  its  full  glory  until  the  nation  has  reached  a high 
degree  of  progress  and  development.  Remembering  this,  we  must  not  expect  too 
much  early  in  our  artistic  progress  and  grow  elated  over  a possible  development  that 
may  yet  be  far  in  the  future. 

Florence  Finch 

Boston,  Mass. 


THE  GROWTH  OF  AMERICAN  ART 


F THE  nineteenth  century  be  not  remarkable  for  great  originality 
in  art,  or  an  outburst  of  aesthetic  feeling  and  expression  in 
fresh  and  new  forms  of  profound  conception  and  invention, 
it  can  justly  lay  claim  to  a stirring  eclecticism  in  the  way  of 
a tasteful  revival  of  old  art  in  muiltifarious  ways  and  an  eager 
desire  to  discover  some  new  paths  to  fame  for  itself  In 
what  we  may  call  the  technique  of  art,  i.  e.,  its  material 
means,  handling,  scientific  aids,  finish  of  execution,  our  best 
men  are  behind  none  of  any  age.  Where  they  fail  is  in  the 
comparative  superficiality  or  extravagance  and  treatment  of 
their  themes  in  the  ardor  of  their  pursuit  of  originality,  their  intense  realism  in  oppo- 
sition to  idealism,  and  the  preference  of  so  called  truth — which  is  really  poverty  and 
ignorance  of  choice — to  the  lofty  idealisms  of  classical  and  renaissant  art.  But  there  is 
good  even  in  all  this  ; for,  where  the  true  path  to  art  is  unknown,  we  can  find  it  only  by 
trying  many,  and  erring  often.  Every  obvious  failure  is  a step  in  the  right  direction. 
We  may  shorten  our  way,  however,  by  studying  as  they  deserve  the  works  of  our  pre- 
decessors in  every  branch  and  school  of  art,  from  earliest  Egypt  down  to  our  own. 
In  each  attempt  of  humanity  of  every  race  to  find  its  ideal  of  aesthetic  happiness,  there 
is  a genuine  contribution  toward  a divine  result ; or  in  plainer  speech,  the  discovery 
of  universal  beauty  by  which  all  sensitive  and  inquiring  minds  are  made  to  enjoy  life 
more  here  on  earth  and  perceive  its  correspondence  to  higher  planes  beyond  our  skies. 

Transcendentalism,  however,  in  art,  is  no  more  popular  with  the  average  mind 
than  in  literature.  I must  therefore  descend  to  the  plain  ground  beneath  our  feet  and 
speak  of  things  as  I find  them  practically,  leaving  to  my  readers  to  say  how  far  their 
eyes  and  thoughts  agree  with  my  experience.  Setting  aside  ancient  art,  otherwise 
than  as  examples  and  standards  in  its  various  phases,  and  modern  European  art 
except  so  far  as  it  stimulates  and  influences  our  own,  I will  confine  my  remarks  to  our 
native  art. 

It  cannot  quite  yet  be  dignified  with  the  name  of  a national  American  school,  in 
the  sense  of  the  Erench  and  others  of  older  peoples  ; but  it  is  fast  growing  to  that  degree 
of  unity  of  manner,  motive  and  aim,  and  degree  of  technical  excellence,  as  will  entitle  it 


to  this  distinctive  characterization.  It  is  growing,  and  growing  rapidly  — so  rapidly  in 
technique  that  even  the  French  artists  are  beginning  to  look  on  the  Americans  as 
actual  rivals  in  the  market.  In  neatness,  quality,  delicacy,  and  brightness  of  touch, 
our  wood-engravings,  when  at  their  best,  excel  the  European.  This  progress  is  the 
serious  work  of  a few  years  only.  The  American  mind  is  inventive,  but  not  imagina- 
tive. When  its  imagination  is  fully  aroused,  it  will  see  sights  and  dream  dreams  that 
must  carry  forward  our  painting  and  sculpture  into  those  lofty  intellectual  regions 
which  favor  inspiration  from  the  highest  sources  and  lead  to  motives  that  appeal  to  the 
universal  mind,  because  they  touch  the  deepest  feelings  of  humanity  and  confess  a 
divinity  that  shapes  our  ends  to  better  purposes  than  we  know.  The  broad,  vigorous, 
enterprising,  throbbing  life  of  our  new  America,  its  ambitions,  sympathies,  love  of 
nature  and  quickness  of  apprehension,  its  acuteness  of  observation  and  investigation, 
its  very  blunders  as  well  as  its  successes,  the  multifarious  types  of  men  that  stir  and 
quicken  its  depths,  its  freedom  of  growth  in  every  direction,  the  very  evils  as  well  as 
good  that  leaven  its  mass  of  vitality  are  all  so  much  fresh  food  for  art.  When  a 
master’s  hand  — soon  to  come  — arrives  to  shape  it  all  into  new  phases  of  art-language 
and  beauty,  we  will  be  surprised  to  discover  there  is  so  much  food  even  for  high  art 
in  our  midst.  But  no  truth  is  seen  until  the  spiritual  eyes  are  opened  to  discern  it. 

The  primary  defect  of  American  art,  thanks  to  foreign  schools  free  to  our  artists, 
is  rapidly  disappearing.  Italy,  France,  Germany,  and  England  are  all  supplying  the 
missing  links  of  America  in  our  art  education  in  a most  generous  way,  by  their 
museums  of  old  art,  and  the  stimulating  example  and  teaching  of  their  modern 
schools,  in  which  Americans  have  every  privilege  and  advantage  of  their  own  artists. 
This  generosity  and  privilege,  to  their  credit  be  it  said,  our  artists  appreciate  at  its 
true  value,  and  ask  nothing  more  of  our  own  government  than  to  let  them  alone.  If 
it  will  not  provide,  by  museums  of  ancient  art  and  other  institutions,  the  means  of  a 
sufficient  art  training  for  them  to  compete  with  the  artists  of  those  nations  that  do, 
they  ask  simply  that  they  be  left  to  avail  themselves  of  the  good  offices  of  foreign 
nations,  and  be  put  on  precisely  the  same  footing  as  to  the  sale  of  their  works  as 
foreign  artists.  If  these  must  pay  a heavy  duty  on  importation,  place  those  of 
American  artists  on  the  same  footing;  otherwise,  the  foreign  nations  that  believe  art 
is  not  merchandise,  but  incarnate  thought,  spirit,  civilization, — in  fine,  mental  food, — 
will  tell  our  artists  to  leave  their  schools  and  go  back  to  their  own  barren  land  for  art 
instruction  and  culture.  In  some  way  or  other,  the  sober  second  thought  of  our 
people  must  remedy  this  impediment  not  only  to  our  own  progress  in  art,  but  to  the 
growth  of  American  civilization  as  a whole.  Old  as  I am,  I expect  to  see  the  time 
when  every  genuine  art  object  will  receive  at  least  as  hearty  and  free  a welcome  to 
our  shores  as  every  ignorant,  dirt-stained  emigrant  of  lowest  human  types,  speedily 
transformed  by  our  careless  legislators  into  governing  voters. 

Our  artists  show  both  their  willingness  to  avail  themselves  of  foreign  means  of 
scientific  education  wanting  in  their  own  country  and  their  appreciation  of  the  fact, 
not  known  to  Americans  in  general,  that  success  in  art  depends  on  unremitting  study 
of  best  means,  as  in  every  other  profession.  Their  works  now  show  the  beneficial 
results  of  foreign  study.  What  is  now  needed  is,  that  they  should  fully  appreciate  the 
great  world  of  motives  and  spiritual  and  ideal  inlook  as  well  as  outlook,  American 
life,  history,  and  nature,  in  themselves,  offer  as  motives  for  their  best  work. 


In  sculpture,  without  desiring  to  be  invidious,  I would  mention  two  men  whose 
works  seem  to  me  to  indicate  sound  advance  in  the  right  direction  of  fine  art  and 
poetical  or  profound  motives.  The  first  is  the  late  Edward  Thaxter,  of  Portland, 
whose  “ Love’s  First  Dream,”  now  on  its  way  to  America,  in  delicate  perception  and 
treatment  of  a motive  of  pure  fancy,  is  very  striking  for  its  originality  and  spirit  — a 
work  in  the  modern  mixed  romantic  and  naturalistic  spirit  of  sculpture  that  is  every 
way  remarkable  and  strikingly  beautiful.  But  Mr.  Thaxter’s  life  was  not  spared  to 
bring  forth  the  full  harvest  of  rich  promise  this  genuine  American  work  suggests  of 
his  genius. 

The  other  sculptor  is  Mr.  F.  Simmons,  of  Rome.  His  genius,  for  I may 
venture  to  say  he  possesses  it,  is  of  a larger,  broader,  and  longer  training.  Its  fruits, 
as  well  as  the  underlying  insight  into  fine  art,  which  are  evinced  by  the  entire  char- 
acterization and  motives  selected,  are  of  a high  standard,  based  on  a true  feeling  for 
the  best  points  of  Greek  idealism  and  modern  love  of  nature,  devoid  of  a sense  of 
mere  imitation.  I find  this  sentiment  and  execution  in  his  late  works,  both  ideal  and 
portrait,  that  I have  seen,  with  a play  of  imagination,  like  the  locks  of  the  beautiful 
and  youthful  Medusa  just  beginning  to  change  into  the  serpent  form  and  attract  her 
notice,  that  points  to  a poetical  grasp  of  no  common  order. 

Hitherto  I fear  our  artists  have  thought  more  of  pecuniary  success  than  of  the 
honor  and  growth  of  their  profession.  When  this  dominates  them,  joined  with  clear- 
ness and  independence  in  the  choice  of  motives,  signs  of  which  in  a number  of  painters 
and  sculptors  and  perhaps  in  a few  architects  already  appear,  we  shall  be  astonished 
at  the  rapid  development  of  a school  of  which  the  proudest  American  will  not  be 
ashamed. 

In  the  minor  arts  growth  is  evinced  even  more  conspicuously.  There  are  no  art- 
tiles  in  Europe  equal  to  Low’s,  in  depth,  purity,  richness,  and  variety  of  glazes,  and 
picturesqueness  of  composition.  This  is  peculiarly  an  American  triumph,  which  sur- 
prises every  European  of  taste.  The  same  may  be  said  of  the  Lafarge  and  Tiffany 
glass,  and  of  some  of  the  Chelsea  iron- work  of  the  Magee  Furnace  Company,  and 
particularly  a cast-iron,  polished  frieze  of  passion  flowers  for  a private  house,  which  is 
largely  and  spiritedly  executed  in  correct  style  of  work  of  this  character. 

The  fast-spreading  craving  for  beauty  in  all  things,  however  crude  and  unin- 
structed at  present,  in  America,  is  a most  cheering  symptom  of  our  growing  civiliza- 
tion. The  limits  of  this  article  forbid  my  expanding  on  a theme  so  inviting  and 
hopeful ; therefore  I can  only  say,  in  closing,  that  to  me  the  signs  of  the  times  are  very 
auspicious  for  American  art  and  artists  in  general,  and  none  wishes  them  greater 
success  than  the  writer. 

James  Jackson  Jarves 

Florence,  July  i,  1883. 


NATIVE  PAINTERS 


HAVE  little  patience  with  men  and  women  who  repeat 
stale  cries  against  the  literature  or  the  fine  arts  of  the 
United  States.  Hearing  their  mournful  talk,  I in  turn 
grow  unjust  and  think  harsh  things  of  the  speakers. 
Suppose,  by  way  of  example,  we  take  the  art  of  the 
painter,  and  look  about  us.  At  Philadelphia  one  finds 
good  painters  in  historical,  in  genre,  in  figure  and  land- 
scape, painters  not  the  equals,  it  is  true,  of  the  dozen 
greatest  living  artists,  but  excellent  of  the  second  rank. 
In  Boston  the  average  among  painters  is  very  high,  as  the  average  is  wont  to  be 
whenever  New  England  sets  herself  a task.  Boston  has  nourished  several  artists  of 
the  first  rank  ; Boston  is  moreover  in  a fair  way  to  develop  other  workmen  of  the 
highest  class  owing  to  her  intelligent  encouragement  of  native  schools  and' native  art. 
Half  a dozen  other  great  cities  have  each  their  band  of  hopeful  painters,  male  and 
female,  in  this  case  starving  from  lack  of  support,  in  that  retrograding  from  unwise 
local  patriotism,  but  now  and  then  receiving  just  that  middle  term  of  encouragement 
and  repression  which  is  needed  to  bring  out  what  is  best  in  the  character  and  work  of 
an  artist.  Were  the  city  of  New  York  utterly  lacking  in  good  painters,  the  situation 
in  the  United  States  would  be  far  from  hopeless  ; quite  unwarranted  would  be  the 
melancholy  of  those  critics  for  whom,  by  a singular  perverseness  of  things,  Raphaels 
and  Titians  will  not  grow  on  every  bush.  New  York,  favored  by  her  position  in  the 
current  of  trade  and  emigration,  has  had,  and  possesses  to-day,  painters  second  to  no 
artists  at  work  in  this  or  other  lands.  Because  in  some  instances  their  methods 
differ  from  those  who  have  great  followings  abroad,  one  must  not  hurry  to  the  con- 
clusion that  the  foreign  master,  having  disciples  who  make  a noise  in  the  world  and 
bear  his  name  and  mannerism  to  this  side  of  the  Atlantic,  is  the  better  man.  One 
must  protect  one’s  self  against  the  contagious  enthusiasm  of  young  painters  with  a 
propaganda.  Always  in  danger  of  accepting  artists  on  the  footing  they  themselves 
demand,  we  often  yield  too  far  to  their  technical  self-assertions  and  forget  to  maintain 
our  own  rights  as  a public.  Beware  of  being  overborne  by  the  ardor  of  the  profes- 
sional through  sympathy  ! Absorbed  in  his  delightful  creations,  he  is  prone  to  egotism; 


he  talks  as  if  the  public  had  no  rights  which  he  need  respect.  Since  France  is  at 
present  the  attractive  center  for  the  fine  arts,  it  is  usually  the  painter  who  has  taken 
his  course  in  Paris  who  returns  to  his  own  land  most  puffed  up  with  the  self-confi- 
dence of  youth,  with  fixed  beliefs  in  his  master’s  methods  as  the  only  way  of  work, 
and  with  that  ignorance  of  the  world  at  home  and  the  world’s  needs  which  rendc'rs  the 
recent  graduate  of  college  a joke  to  his  friends  and  a burden  to  himself  He  pooh- 
poohs  the  established  painter  who  has  laboriously  made  for  himself  a circle  of  patrons. 
Having  been  taught  to  see  a few  things  very  distinctly,  he  is  color-blind  to  every- 
thing else.  Too  often  the  ardor  and  the  sincerity  of  his  unbelief  in  native  or  estab- 
lished forms  of  art  find  a listener  and  mouthpiece  in  the  art-critic,  and  the  latter 
attacks  with  severity  when  he  should  discriminate  with  fairness.  On  the  side  of 
innovator  and  critic  is  the  grumbler  by  constitution ; on  theirs,  too,  the  man  who 
has  the  habit  of  assuming  wisdom  at  second-hand  cheaply  and  swiftly  by  comparing 
the  very  best  in  art,  selected  from  all  the  past,  with  the  slightest  of  modern  work,  a 
comparison  which  would  be  plainly  unfair  between  the  best  of  two  given  epochs, 
for  it  leaves  out  of  sight  the  entire  change  of  life  between  then  and  now,  the  increas- 
ing multiplicity  of  pleasures  and  aims  offered  at  present  to  the  public  for  which  works 
of  art  are  created  and  the  consequent  scattering  of  the  attention  of  tlie  public  in 
modern  times. 

It  would  be  a merciful  thing  if  some  professor  at  the  Ecole  des  Beaux  Arts  would 
lecture  to  American  students  on  nationality  in  art,  and  assure  them  that  America  has 
a genius  of  her  own,  which  inevitably  must,  and  really  does,  appear  in  the  fine  arts  for 
good  or  for  bad.  He  should  tell  them  that  no  Frenchifying  of  themselves,  beyond 
what  may  be  called  the  student’s  saturation-point,  will  avail  to  give  them  a niche  in 
the  national  temple  of  fame.  As  a college  is  a place  to  get,  not  ideas  but  methods  of 
working,  so  foreign  art-schools  are  places  to  learn  technique,  not  art ; and  it  may  be 
seriously  questioned  whether  the  native  schools  have  not  already  greatly  diminished 
even  such  usefulness  to  American  students  as  the  schools  abroad  have  had  hitherto. 
Now,  though  no  professor  has  said  this  publicly,  yet  we  find  other  Frenchmen  inveigh- 
ing often  enough  against  American  artists  for  being  un-American,  for  copying  the 
Europeans.  Their  ignorance  of  the  United  States,  however,  and  especially  of  the 
complicated  relations  that  Americans  bear  to  Europeans  as  parts  with  the  latter  of 
the  same  civilization  as  their  own  cause  their  strictures  to  be  of  no  avail.  But  those 
people  in  France  and  England  who  realize  that  America  cannot  evolve  a purely  red- 
skin literature  and  art  begin  to  suspect  that,  in  the  fine  arts  at  least,  she  has  something 
more  to  show  than  bald  imitations  of  European  masters.  It  is  a fact  that  New  York 
has  developed  painters  of  strong  original  genius  from  men  scarcely  touched  directly 
by  foreign  schools ; certainly  not  influenced  permanently  by  residence  abroad.  And, 
moreover,  in  New  York  battles  have  been  fought  which  are  of  the  utmost  importance 
to  the  health  of  American  art.  In  no  other  city  of  America  has  the  guild  of  painters 
been  so  large  ; in  none  so  much  convulsed  by  faction.  The  newspapers  have  softened 
rather  than  exaggerated  the  bitter  feeling  between  old  school  and  new ; between 
Academician  and  Society  man  ; between  Art  Leaguer  and  Academy  scholar.  Strange 
to  say,  a quarrel  with  the  illiberality  of  the  Royal  Academy  appears  to  have  developed 
in  London  of  late  years,  and  may  be  considered  a novelty,  unless  the  establishment  of 
the  Grosvenor  Gallery  be  looked  upon  as  a protest  earlier  than  the  similar  movement 


here.  In  New  York  it  is  now  possible  to  look  back  and  survey  the  battle-field  with 
equanimity ; and  as  one  does  so,  there  comes  the  teaching  which  is  pretty  certain 
to  such  looking-back,  that  on  both  sides  there  was  some  justice,  on  both  some 
injustice.  The  newspapers  who  had  the  public’s  ear  have  sufficiently  upheld  the  cause 
of  the  younger  association ; it  is  the  Academy  of  Design  which  has  lacked  defenders. 
The  abuse  lavished  on  it  may  have  been  merited  in  part ; but  generally  the  attacks 
were  without  discrimination ; pretty  nearly  always  they  were  short-sighted.  How- 
ever illiberal  one  may  regard  its  bearing  toward  the  youth  of  the  profession,  it  may  be 
asserted  that  the  course  of  the  Academy  resulted  in  good.  At  first  it  did  little  but 
good,  because  it  united  and  encouraged  the  scattered  artists  and  brought  them  and  the 
public  face  to  face.  Later,  the  narrow  spirit  which  seems  a part  of  such  organizations 
kept  some  painters  back  until  they  became  ripe  for  better  work.  Some  young  artists 
it  has  harmed  irretrievably  by  encouraging  them  in  wretched  work,  but  others  it  has 
stimulated  and  steeled  by  rebuffs.  Of  the  latter,  some  have  learned  to  pluck  the  rose 
of  progress  from  the  thorn  of  neglect.  The  Academy  has  been  called  a stumbling-block 
in  these  latter  days.  But  suppose  it  is;  the  best  way  to  develop  some  artists  is  not  to 
smooth  their  road.  Perhaps  an  association  like  the  Academy  would  have  been  perni- 
cious in  a community  where  it  could  entirely  suppress  rebellion  and  crush  out  rivalry; 
but  in  New  York,  at  least,  the  somewhat  Boeotian  inertness  of  the  Academy  served 
only  to  whet  the  energies  of  painters  and  writers  Like  the  rivalry  between  two  great 
magazines,  that  between  Academy  and  Society  of  Artists  improved  both  sides ; 
though  the  popular  test  of  success,  in  the  shape  of  money  returns,  has  told  strongly  in 
favor  of  the  Academy,  while  the  men  of  the  Society  have  had  the  consolation  of  bear- 
ing off  the  honors  of  criticism.  With  all  this  stirring  of  ideas,  with  all  these  battles  of 
art  fought  on  our  soil,  with  the  newly-won  triumphs  of  our  etchers,  wood-engravers, 
and  water-colorists  in  the  foreign  capitals,  is  it  not  amazing  to  hear  the  croakers  croak  ? 
Colonial  America  gave  Great  Britain  a Franklin  and  a Rumford  in  science,  a West  in 
painting : good  men  for  their  day.  At  present,  the  artist  of  London  who  is  the  most 
artistic  of  his  compeers  is  an  American  by  birth  and  education.  Whistler,  one  of  the 
founders  of  the  impressionist  reaction  against  pre-Raphaelitism,  learned  to  use  his 
tools  in  France,  and  practiced  his  profession  in  England.  It  is  also  true  that  our 
Academy  of  Design  contains  painters  as  opposite  to  Whistler  as  black  to  white. 
Indeed,  the  list  of  American  painters  will  furnish  the  believer  in  every  conceivable 
shade  of  art.  We  have  our  religious  painters  and  our  humorous  painters.  When 
one  comes  to  examine  the  matter,  the  diversity  and  wide  range  of  American  work 
will  surprise.  That  “ Hudson  River  School  ” on  which  contempt  has  been  heaped 
should  not,  and  hereafter  will  not,  bear  the  evil  reputation  it  has  to-day.  It  was  local 
and  yet  national ; it  satisfied  a real  demand  for  a time.  Moreover,  from  it  sprang 
many  a good  artist,  like  Homer  Martin,  George  Inness,  Winslow  Homer,  Elihu  Ved- 
der,  Sanford  and  Swain  Gifford,  and  others  yet,  whose  names  will  occur  to  those  who 
look.  The  country  damned  by  Talleyrand  for  having  thirty  religions  and  only  one 
white  sauce  continues  to  show  variety  in  the  fine  arts,  a field  which  for  many  lies  next 
to,  if  it  does  not  usurp,  religion  itself  The  conflict  of  tongues  and  pens,  the  jealousies 
and  heart-burnings,  the  rivalries  and  obstructions  among  the  painters  of  New  York 
have  been  signs  of  health  rather  than  illness.  They  have  had  this  result, — that  no 
one  man,  no  one  association  has  ruled  the  public  taste.  While  calling  attention  to 


painting  as  in  no  other  way  was  possible,  they  have  allowed  artistic  “natures”  to  be 
developed  according  to  their  inner  forces.  One  may  seek  in  vain  from  one  end  of 
Europe  to  the  other  for  an  artist  with  the  color-imagination  of  John  La  Farge,  or 
for  a painter  of  the  landscapes  of  fairy-land  like  the  idealist  Albert  Ryder.  What 
Englishman,  what  Frenchman,  or  German  equals  Homer  Martin  in  those  landscapes 
which  are  real,  in  that  they  transcribe  the  actual,  but  are,  besides,  filled  with  a gentle 
ecstasy  of  color?  Where  do  we  find  the  equal  of  George  Fuller  in  his  special  field  ? 
Thinking  of  these  and  other  marvelous  artists,  and  the  little  worldly  success  the 
greater  number  of  them  have  obtained,  one  is  surprised  and  indignant.  Is  this  the 
way  the  United  States  looks  after  its  men  of  finest  sensibilities  ? Anger  at  a public 
so  forgetful  of  its  artistic  prophets  is  natural  enough — but  this  is  not  a matter  for  the 
passing  of  hasty  judgments. 

Were  I asked  what  the  Average  American  is  like,  I should  say  a hickory- 
nut  ; he  is  so  hard,  unget-at-able,  unsympathetic  outside  ; so  soft  and  savory  within. 
Witness  his  treatment  of  wife  and  children.  Your  American  who  talks  dollars 
and  crops  is  a great  sentimentalist;  and  though  he  denounce  Europe,  has  a very 
weak  spot  for  the  old  country  in  his  heart.  Only  Englishmen  rendered  insane 
by  good  living  and  the  pride  of  place,  ignorant  and  vicious  legislators,  oppress- 
ors of  their  tenantry,  greedy  and  coarse  merchants,  could  have  driven  the  loyal 
colonists  of  1775  into  the  ranks  of  the  rebels  and  pulled  their  own  empire  about  their 
ears  in  the  way  they  did.  In  spite  of  a defiant  outside  toward  things  European,  our 
people  are  kinder  to  English,  French,  German  painters  than  to  Americans  of  equal 
parts.  Perhaps  here  and  there  has  been  an  artist  who  wondered  at  it.  But  what  is 
more  natural  to  be  looked  for  than  a sentiment  in  favor  of  European  scenes  and 
views,  of  European  peoples  and  actions,  surviving  for  many  generations  among 
colonists  from  Europe  ? Irving,  Hawthorne,  Longfellow  felt  it  and  interpreted 
it ; they  were  rewarded  by  popular  favor.  Yet  for  obvious  reasons  an  extreme 
of  this  sentiment  was  thought  undesirable  if  not  absolutely  foolish  ; it  aroused 
jealousy  and  suspicion ; even  so  lately  as  during  the  recent  legislation  which  trebled 
the  tariff  on  objects  of  the  fine  arts,  the  national  temper  toward  those  who  go  to 
Europe  to  live  was  accurately  shown.  The  bad  effects  that  legislation  would  be 
likely  to  have  on  American  students  of  art  in  Europe  was  not  ignored  ; but  the 
movers  were  of  the  same  opinion  as  thousands  of  other  Americans,  that  students 
become  denationalized  by  long  residence  abroad.  The  anxiety  lest  Europe  should 
prove  too  attractive  shows  that  the  sentiment  is  there,  and  that  it  is  strong.  A 
further  reason  for  the  preference  shown  to  foreign  work,  and  one  that  is  common  to 
humanity,  lies  in  man’s  love  of  the  distant  and  unknown.  Eldorado  is  always  just 
beyond  the  mountains  or  across  the  sea.  The  same  faculty  which  makes  one  man 
delight  in  poetic  landscapes  causes  another  to  be  pleased  by  views  from  foreign 
cities.  The  difference  is  one  of  degree,  not  of  kind.  The  picture  of  Vesuvius  is 
valuable  as  a memento,  or  the  record  of  a fact,  without  regard  to  the  art  that  may  be 
shown  in  its  making ; the  picture  of  home  scenery  is  chiefly,  if  not  entirely,  valuable 
for  that  amount  of  art  it  may  possess.  There  is  need  of  a higher  cultivation  to  enjoy 
the  latter  and,  what  is  more  important  to  remember,  it  needs  a far  higher  kind  of 
artist  to  produce  it.  Of  course  there  are  other  more  obvious  reasons  for  preferring 
foreign  pictures ; for  instance,  because  they  have  or  are  presumed  to  have  the 


approval  of  European  connoisseurs,  more  numerous,  more  skilled  than  American. 
Finally,  to  cite  no  more,  there  is  the  American  woman,  fair  conservative  that  she  is ! 
While  apt  to  talk  very  patriotically,  and  indeed  act  so  when  the  need  arises,  she  is 
drawn  toward  Europe  more  powerfully  than  her  partner.  All  her  hereditary  instincts 
are  in  favor  of  the  class  distinctions  and  ease  of  household  life  which  are  found  there. 
Who  knows  how  much  her  influence  may  be  cast  to  the  good  of  foreign  art  ? Not 
so  much,  probably,  as  transatlantic  observers  are  eager  to  assert,  but  still  to  an 
appreciable  degree. 

All  this  will  have  been  said  to  little  purpose,  if  it  is  not  clear  that,  according  to  one 
opinion  at  least,  the  painter’s  art  in  the  United  States  is  in  a very  promising  state. 
To  bring  it  to  absolute  leadership  among  the  nations,  what  is  now  needed  except  a 
widening  of  encouragement,  a deepening  of  the  popular  knowledge  of  and  sympathy 
with  the  higher  aspirations  of  our  painters  ? To  the  person  who  likes  the  pictures  of 
French  or  German  or  English  artists  let  us  say  ; Very  well;  but  do  not  be  deceived  ; 
their  equals  are  here  in  the  persons  of  your  fellow-citizens  ; yes,  perhaps  their 
superiors.  To  the  tribe  of  the  morally  weak-kneed,  who  hold  their  hand  to  their 
ear  to  catch  the  faintest  whisper  of  disdain  or  approval  over  seas,  let  us  say  this 
by  way  of  encouragement : Europe  is  beginning  to  appreciate,  nay,  even  actually 
to  buy  American  pictures  ! And  to  the  critic  who  complains  that  American  painters 
avoid  American  subjects,  let  us  rejoin  : Art  has  no  fixed  locality,  no  one  country;  as 
soon  as  the  public  calls  for  American  pictures  of  whatever  sort,  they  will  be  forth- 
coming, good  of  their  kind.  This  last,  indeed,  is  the  key  of  the  problem.  It  is  the 
band  of  active  picture-lovers,  continually  recruited  from  the  great  mass  of  the  indiffer- 
ent, a band  composed  in  part  of  rich  men,  but  mostly  of  young  men  at  their  life-work 
who  are  willing  to  sacrifice  something  to  own  objects  of  art,  which  must  furnish  the 
encouragers  of  native  work.  Not  the  very  rich  men  are  to  be  looked  to  so  much  as 
those  who  earn  a little  more  than  they  spend  on  necessities.  But  water  cannot  rise 
higher  than  its  source.  The  more  the  art  patrons  of  this  class  cultivate  themselves, 
the  more  will  they  exact  of  painters  and  the  higher  will  be  the  quality  of  the  supply. 
The  artist  is  only  another  phase  of  the  artisan  ; he  comes  from  the  people  ; he  is  the 
people’s  finest  tool.  If  anything  can  be  sure,  one  thing  is  certain:  V/hatever  be  the 
task  set  him,  wisely,  and  with  proper  sympathy  on  the  part  of  his  employers,  that  the 
American  artist  can  do. 


Charles  de  Kay 


THE  ART  TAR /EE 


HE  recent  increase  of  the  tariff  upon  all  works  of  art  is 
chiefly  important  according  as  it  affects  the  progress  of 
art  in  this  country.  Upon  this  point  the  diversity  of 
opinion  among  those  most  interested  was  curiously  illus- 
trated. It  was  due  to  an  effort  to  have  all  duty  removed 
that  the  existing  tariff  of  lo  per  cent,  was  raised  to  30 
per  cent.  Various  motives  are  attributed  to  the  Virginia 
Congressman  who  was  mainly  instrumental  in  effecting 
this  result.  But  careful  inquiry  cannot  prove  that  he 
represented  any  considerable  number  of  artists,  as  did 
Mr.  Belmont  of  New  York,  who  presented  the  names  of 
the  most  prominent  artists  of  his  State  in  favor  of  free 
importation.  The  action  was  probably  due  to  the  super- 
ficial view  of  the  subject  that  natures  having  no  percep- 
tion of  art  feeling,  would  naturally  take.  Similar 
natures  were  in  turn  easily  stimulated  to  take  the  same  view.  That  wealth  should  be 
made  to  pay  for  the  enjoyment  of  its  luxuries  is  a cry  well  calculated  to  carry  con- 
viction. It  is  not  to  be  doubted,  too,  that  the  growing  numbers  of  American  artists 
resident  abroad  was  another  incentive  to  this  result.  Certain  persons  are  more  prone 
to  devise  methods  of  force  than  methods  of  persuasion.  The  latter  arise  from  thorough 
investigation  of  causes  which  must  be  reproduced  in  kind  to  insure  like  effects.  Among 
the  artists,  a minority  only  favors  the  increased  duty.  A majority  of  the  leading  men 
have  signed  various  petitions  to  the  next  Congress  asking  for  a repeal  of  the  present 
law.  They  comprise  nearly  all  the  Americans  abroad  and  those  who  have  studied, 
and  are  studying,  there.  They  are  accused  of  being  actuated  by  feelings  of  obligation 
to  foreign  art  schools  and  fear  of  suffering  personal  slight  by  foreign  artists  because  of 
their  nationality.  Such  feelings  are  natural,  and  probably  have  their  due  weight. 
But  it  would  also  be  reasonable  to  suppose  that  broader  views  as  well  are  entertained. 
These  men  may  have  learned  in  the  countries  giving  special  patronage  and  encourage- 
ment to  art  that  their  advancement  is  due  to  causes  which  do  not  exist  in  this  country, 
and  which  cannot  exist  under  present  tendencies. 

Few  of  those  who  believe  in  an  art  duty  confess  that  it  is  necessary  for  the  same 
reasons  that  manufacturers  desire  protection  of  their  interests,  namely,  that  the  cost  of 


production  is  greater  here  on  account  of  the  greater  cost  of  living.  The  advocates  of 
art  tariff  assume  that  cheap  foreign  pictures  are  largely  imported,  and  that  their  sale  is 
encouraged  by  dealers  in  preference  to  American  works,  because  of  the  greater  profits 
obtained  from  the  former.  They  say  that  the  lO  per  cent,  duty  had  no  effect  in  keep- 
ing these  works  out,  and  that  a higher  duty  would  be  more  effectual.  There  is  truth 
enough  in  this  general  assertion  to  carry  the  false  deduction.  Art  dealers  probably 
strive  to  sell  what  they  can  sell  most  easily  and  with  the  best  pecuniary  result  to 
themselves.  But  the  weakness  of  the  case  is  palpable.  If  picture  buyers  are  so 
ignorant  that  they  cannot  see  the  superiority  of  a good  American  picture  over  a poor 
foreign  one,  then  clearly  the  American  artist  needs  a better  educated  public,  so  that 
he  shall  not  be  at  the  mercy  of  a purely  mercantile  spirit.  Art  dealers  make  no  pre- 
tence to  be  public  educators,  or  benefactors,  although  up  to  the  recent  establishment 
of  our  few  art  schools  and  museums  they  were  indirectly  the  means  of  disseminating 
all  the  art  knowledge  we  had. 

Small  as  the  protectionist  minority  is,  yet  it  lessens  still  more  its  importance  by 
lack  of  harmony.  It  is  not  united  in  opinion  as  to  what  is  the  best  kind  of  protec- 
tion. The  thirty  per  cent,  duty  is  unsatisfactory,  because  it  bears  hardest  where  all 
would  agree  that  it  should  bear  the  lightest  — upon  valuable  and  educational  works 
— the  Rembrandt,  for  instance,  for  which  Mr.  Marquand  recently  gave  5,000  guineas. 
To  such  an  expenditure  30  per  cent,  adds  materially.  It  might  well  be  feared  that 
so  great  a tax  would  have  a deterring  effect  to  even  a generous  and  philanthropic 
person.  Two  other  propositions  are  therefore  made.  One  is,  to  put  on  every  impor- 
tation the  specific  sum  of  $100,  which  will  bear  as  hard  upon  small  works,  which  may 
be  good  of  their  kind,  as  the  30  per  cent,  on  the  important  works.  The  other  is 
a proportional  per  cent.,  decreasing  according  to  the  increasing  value  of  the  work. 
Undoubtedly  this  last  is  the  least  objectionable  of  the  protective  methods  thus  far 
proposed.  But  these  different  suggestions  prove  how  little  agreement  of  thought 
there  is  among  this  class  of  artists  upon  the  application  of  the  principle  which  they 
claim  is  all  important,  not  only  to  their  individual  welfare,  but  to  the  advancement  of 
our  national  art. 

And  now  as  to  free  importation  ; what  can  be  said  ? Firstly,  that  America,  in  art 
confessedly  behind  the  great  European  countries,  is  the  only  one  that  levies  a duty  on 
art  importations.  Secondly,  that  open  competition  is  the  life  of  art  as  well  as  of  trade. 
Artists  need  constant  stimulation  themselves,  or  they  will  get  into  ruts  and  retro- 
grade. How  are  they  to  get  this  stimulation  except  from  the  public  demand  ? How 
is  this  public  demand  to  be  developed  except  through  education  ? Shut  out  works 
of  art,  whether  exceptional  or  ordinary,  and  the  amount  of  art  is  lessened.  There  is 
then  less  to  be  seen,  less  to  be  compared,  less  to  be  talked  about,  and  consequently 
less  feeling  for  art  generated.  The  greater  number  of  artists  in  a place  the  better 
for  the  individual  artist.  Each  is  forming  a constituency ; each  educating  a class  ; 
each  calling  into  existence  a force  that  soon  moves  and  grows  because  of  its  own 
momentum  and  adhesiveness.  New  York  is  a good  example  of  this  growth.  The 
great  number  of  artists  that  have  congregated  in  this  metropolis  recently  has  created 
an  atmosphere  of  art  which  is  fast  overshadowing  the  famous  art  culture  of  Boston, 
where,  at  times,  the  best  artists  of  the  country  have  been  found.  But  it  is  said 
that  to  allow  free  entrance  into  the  country  of  all  works  of  art  will  result  in  an  influx 


of  trash  that  has  no  claim  to  the  name  of  art.  There  is  a possibility  of  this  result. 
And  yet  there  is  another  consideration  : The  trash  will  be  bought  by  persons  to  whom 
works  of  merit  would  make  no  appeal.  Like  the  chromo,  it  will  become  the  forerunner 
of  art,  going  where  the  latter  would  find  no  welcome,  but  preparing  the  way  for  its 
ultimate  acceptance.  We  do  not  despise  the  school-girl  who  takes  delight  in  Mrs. 
Southworth  ; nor  the  boy  who  finds  all  his  imagination  craves  in  a dime  novel. 
Experience  teaches  that  these  things  are  stepping-stones  that  surely  lead  up  and  on. 
Even  the  art  collector  goes  through  his  formative  stages.  From  the  time  of  the  pur- 
chase of  his  first  picture,  throughout  his  life,  he  is  engaged  in  weeding  his  art  garden. 
Those  things  beyond  which  his  taste  has  grown  are  rooted  up  to  make  room  for 
others  that  will  later  meet  with  the  same  fate.  The  process  of  cultivation  in  art  is  not 
rapid.  Constant  seeing  and  comparing  are  the  only  means  of  education.  Few,  as 
yet,  in  this  country  have  been  surrounded  from  youth  by  such  standard  works  as 
make  taste  an  inheritance  or  a matter  of  unconscious  inhalation. 

The  weakness  of  American  art  is  obviously  its  lack  of  direction.  Our  govern- 
ment, unlike  those  of  France,  England,  Germany,  and  Italy,  takes  no  cognizance  of 
the  fact  that  art  is  a constantly  growing  profession  ; that  it  affords  relief  to  the  many 
crowded  avenues  of  labor;  that  its  influence  is  enlightening  and  refining,  and  espe- 
cially needed  in  this  young  country,  where  the  tendency  is  practical  and  prosaic. 
While  we  confess  the  supremacy  of  France  in  all  artistic  pursuits,  we  see  how  much 
of  her  wealth  is  due  to  these  sources.  But  we  do  not  seek  to  know  the  secret  of  her 
advancement,  nor  strive  to  benefit  by  her  example.  Not  more  than  a month  or  two 
ago,  an  article  appeared  in  a leading  English  journal,  which  called  attention  to  the 
fact  that,  outside  of  London,  England  was  doing  nothing  for  art  education.  It  cited 
the  activity  of  France  in  contrast.  It  pointed  out  that,  to  keep  pace  with  the  times 
and  arrest  her  backward  inclination,  England  must  follow  in  the  wake  of  her  neighbor. 
In  France  the  knowledge  of  art  is  not  monopolized  by  the  capital.  The  provinces 
have  their  art  museums  and  schools.  These  are  not  independent  weaklings,  but 
dependencies  of  a great  central  organization  — a part  of  the  government  system  of 
education,  so  broad  that  it  aims  to  give  nourishment  to  all  the  seeds  of  industry  and 
learning.  Not  to  foster  and  develop  the  germs  of  artistic  taste  under  this  system 
would  be  a waste  of  the  national  resources.  Compare  this  mode  of  thought  and  these 
methods  of  national  development  with  our  recent  display  of  legislative  ignorance.  Is 
it  reasonable  to  suppose  that  in  any  other  country  of  the  importance  of  ours  such 
narrow  views  could  prevail.  A law  is  passed  ostensibly  for  the  benefit  of  a class, 
with  the  result  that  the  majority  of  this  class  repudiate  the  action  and  ask  for  a repeal 
of  the  law.  Protection  of  this  sort  is  misnamed.  If  a republican  government  can- 
not render  the  aid  to  art  that  monarchies  and  empires  do,  it  might  be  expected  to 
abstain  from  harmful  interference.  Otherwise  the  prayer  of  our  artists  should  be, 
“Save  us  from  our  friends.”  But  it  is  not  without  the  bounds  of  hope  that  we  shall 
rise  to  better  things  — perhaps  to  a commission  appointed  for  the  consideration  of  such 
matters  as  the  encouragement  of  art  in  the  United  States.  If  it  could  not  be  brought 
about  on  the  ideal  ground  of  raising  the  standard  of  culture,  it  might,  on  the  mate- 
rial argument  of  increasing  our  prosperity,  and  adding  another  to  our  full  and 
successful  professions. 


L.  C.  Knight 


E TCH  INC 

AS  A MEANS  OF  EXPRESSION  IN  MODERN  ART,  AND  ITS  DEVELOPMENT 

IN  THE  UNITED  STATES. 


HY  is  etching  practiced  so  extensively  to-day  ? As  I 
have  before  endeavored  to  find  an  answer  to  this  ques- 
tion, I must  ask  the  reader  to  pardon  me  if  I repeat 
myself  in  what  follows.  The  truth  being  the  truth, 
its  statement  must  always  be  essentially  the  same,  and 
it  will  not  do  to  depart  from  it  for  the  sake  of  variety 
or  of  entertainment. 

The  causes  of  the  manifestations  which  we  class  together  under  the  general 
term  “ art,”  are  deep-seated.  If  we  define  art  as  “ the  capacity  of  man  to  conceive  ideals 
and  to  give  tangible  shape  to  these  ideals,  so  that  it  may  be  possible  to  communicate 
them  through  the  senses,”  its  significance  and  the  various  phases  of  its  history  will  at 
once  be  understood:  Crude  ideals  — crude  art;  unanimity  of  views — unanimity  of 
art ; fervent  belief  in  the  ideals  of  the  age  — an  art  well  defined,  confident  of  itself,  and 
well  supported  ; doubt  in  the  ideals  still  officially  assumed  to  be  current — art  timid, 
desultory,  and  at  last  apparently  aimless  ; a breaking  away  from  what  was  supposed 
to  be  central  truths,  and  every  man  trying  to  hew  out  his  own  “ road  to  salvation  ” — 
art  individualized  as  the  expression  of  personal  views,  desires,  or  convictions  ; trans- 
cendentalism— an  art  which  slights  form  and  color  in  its  attempts  to  express  that 
which  exceeds  earthly  experience  ; a resolution  to  be  content  with  this  world,  and  to 
make  the  best  of  it  — art  realistic  on  the  one  hand,  or  decorative  and  somewhat 
sensuous  on  the  other,  and  degenerating  in  its  worst  manifestations  into  the 
embodiment  of  brutal  egoism. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  ours  is  an  age  in  which  personality  asserts  itself,  that 
the  ideals  which  have  ruled  the  world  are  losing  shape,  that  beliefs  are  no  longer 
accepted  unchallenged,  that  creeds  are  changing,  decaying,  ossifying,  dying. 
Art  must  necessarily  feel  this  condition  of  things.  Hence  its  intensely  personal 
character,  and  hence  also  the  fitness  of  etching  as  a means  of  expression.  For 


etching  is  the  most  personal  of  the  reproductive  or  multiplying  processes,  enabling 
each  artist  to  disseminate  the  work  of  his  own  hand  to  a much  larger  extent  than 
if  he  were  limited  to  the  brush  or  the  pencil.  And  as  the  personal  element  is  the 
charm  which  is  valued  above  all  others  in  the  art  of  our  day,  it  follows  that  etching 
should  be  in  favor,  also,  with  the  public.  Few  people  nowadays  ask  for  a statue 
of  the  Madonna,  or  a picture  of  Christ  Crucified,  or  of  Truth  Vanquishing  Falsehood. 
What  we  want  is  a specimen  of  Mr.  Smith’s  or  Miss  Jones’s  work.  It  is  this  desire 
which  leads  to  the  establishment  of  rich  men’s  galleries,  while  even  the  less  wealthy 
can  satisfy  their  longings  by  a collection  of  etchings. 

Discordance  must  necessarily  spring  out  of  this  singing  of  a melody  of  its  own 
by  each  voice.  Possibly  the  time  may  come  again  when  all  will  sing  in  unison,  or 
rather  in  harmony.  But  the  process  of  change  will  be  a slow  one,  and  the  grand 
chorus  will  rise  more  and  more  perceptibly  above  the  din  only  as  voice  after  voice 
falls  into  place,  and  subordinates  its  own  little  personality  to  the  grand  whole.  Mean- 
while, let  us  enjoy  what  the  passing  moment  offers,  and  let  us  draw  gratification  from 
the  fact  that  the  artists  of  the  United  States  have  taken  part  so  vigorously,  although 
somewhat  tardily,  in  this  modern  movement,  which,  whatever  phases  it  may  pass 
through,  must  necessarily  lead  us  onward  and  upward. 

It  would  not  be  very  far  out  of  the  way  to  say  that  etching  was  not  employed  at 
all  by  American  artists  (except  as  a day  laborer,  in  “forwarding”  the  work  of  the 
engraver)  thirty,  or  twenty-five,  or  even  twenty  years  ago.  That  is  nothing  to  be 
extraordinarily  surprised  at,  for  the  French  Etching  Club  was  not  organized  until 
1863.  One  of  the  earliest  American  etchers  was  Mr.  J.  G.  Chapman,  who  was  also 
probably  the  first  native  artist  to  give  an  account  of  the  technical  processes  of  etch- 
ing, in  his  “ American  Drawing  Book,”  published  many  years  ago.  A plate  entitled 
“ lanka,”  engraved  by  V.  Balch,  but  with  a border  etched  by  Mr.  Chapman,  is  dated 
1843.  The  Exhibition  of  American  Etchings,  held  at  the  Boston  Museum  of  Fine 
Arts  in  1881,  brought  out  a number  of  other  plates  executed  by  various  hands  before 
the  year  1850,  none  of  which  had  any  artistic  merit.  Mr.  Geo.  L.  Brown’s  plates, 
dated  1853  and  thereabouts,  are  best  known  among  the  early  American  productions 
of  the  needle.  But  his  etchings,  as  well  as  those  of  Mr.  Chapman,  would  be  more 
likely  to  be  classed  with  and  mistaken  for  engravings  by  the  present  generation. 
Their  characteristics  are  careful,  delicate  execution,  with  frequent  recourse  to  the 
ruling  machine,  and  their  aim  is  subject  rather  than  effect. 

According  to  M.  Castagnary,  who  wrote  the  introduction  to  the  fourth  volume  of 
the  publications  of  the  French  Etching  Club,  which  appeared  in  1866,  the  birth  of 
etching  in  the  United  States  dates  from  the  year  named,  and  M.  Cadart,  of  the  then 
firm  of  Cadart  & Luquet,  to  say  the  least,  stood  godfather  to  the  infant.  M.  Cadart 
came  over  here  as  a missionary,  to  show  Americans  what  Erench  art  was  (of  which 
they  had  never  heard  until  then)  and  to  preach  to  them  the  gospel  of  etching.  The 
hold  of  the  vessel  which  carried  the  apostle  was  filled  with  a precious  cargo  of  Corots, 
etc.,  etc.,  and  with  an  immense  store  of  etching  tools  and  materials,  among  which 
even  old  rags  had  not  been  forgotten.  “ One  might  have  called  him  [f.  e.,  M.  Cadart] 
a sort  of  artistic  Lafayette,  coming,  after  the  lapse  of  a century,  to  complete,  upon 
the  same  ground,  but  with  other  ambitions,  the  work  of  emancipation  and  progress 
begun  by  the  political  Lafayette.”  M.  Cadart,  we  are  told,  “did  so  much  and  so  well 


with  his  tongue,  his  fingers,  his  person,  his  tools,  and  his  cargo,  that  when,  at  the  end 
of  four  months,  he  re-embarked  for  France  — the  Americans  are  quick  in  doing  — 
schools  of  etching  had  been  founded  in  New  York,  Philadelphia,  and  Boston.  Still 
better,  steps  had  been  taken  toward  the  organization  of  a vast  Society  of  Etchers  on 
federal  territory,  with  a view  to  the  closest  connection  with  our  own  [i.  e.,  the  P'rench 
Societe  des  Aqiia-Fortistes],  And  thus  it  was  that,  within  this  present  year,  through 
the  unassisted  efforts  of  the  firm  of  Cadart  & Luquet  [dealers  in  etchings  and  etchers’ 
materials],  the  whole  of  a new  continent"  was  conquered  for  the  cause  of  etching.” 
This  is  fiction,  however,  on  but  a very  slight  basis  of  fact.  Some  few  American 

artists  did  take  lessons  of  M.  Cadart,  and  some  few  plates  were  produced.  There  is  a 

fine  architectural  etching,  by  Mr.  George  Snell,  architect,  of  Boston,  in  the  volume  of 

the  French  Etching  Club  for  1866,  and  Mr.  J.  Foxcroft  Cole,  of  the  same  city,  also 

made  a plate,  which  was  not  regularly  published,  however,  until  it  appeared  in  the 
‘‘American  Art  Review”  in  1880.  Mr.  Edwin  Forbes,  who  was  elected  a member 
of  the  French  Etching  Club,  was  likewise,  I believe,  inspired  by  M.  Cadart,  and  so 
was  Mr.  J.  M.  Falconer,  who  had,  however,  made  his  first  essay  as  far  back  as  1849. 
These  are  all  the  traces  left  by  the  P'rench  missionary  that  I have  been  able  to  find. 
We  shall  be  compelled  to  assume,  therefore,  that  the  conquered  continent  was  lost  as 
quickly  as  it  had  been  won. 

Etching  did  not  really  take  lasting  root  in  the  United  States  until  the  influence 
of  the  P'rench  school  made  itself  felt  among  our  artists  in  general.  It  came,  however, 
in  this  special  instance,  by  way  of  lingland,  through  Mr.  Whistler, — whom  we 
may,  I presume,  still  claim  as  an  American  artist,  in  spite  of  his  expatriation, — and 
among  the  first  to  practice  it  assiduously  was  a young  man  of  English  birth,  Mr. 
Plenry  P'arrer,  who  began  to  etch  in  1868.  The  isolated  efforts  of  several  other  artists, 
such  as  the  plates  executed  by  Mr.  R.  Swain  Gifford  in  1864,  1865,  and  1868,  greatly 
helped  by  the  writings  of  Mr.  Hamerton,  the  first  edition  of  whose  ” Etching  and 
Etchers”  appeared  in  1868,  finally  led  to  the  establishment,  in  1877,  of  the  New’-York 
Pitching  Club.  It  is  to  the  efforts  of  Mr.  James  D.  Smillie  and  Dr.  L.  M.  Yale  that 
the  organization  of  this  club  is  principally  due.  Its  influence  for  good  has  been 
marked,  and  its  example  has  led  to  the  formation  of  similar  associations  in  other  cities, 
of  which,  however,  the  Philadelphia  Society  of  Etchers,  organized  in  June,  1880,  seems 
to  be  the  only  one  of  real  vitality. 

The  exhibition,  before  alluded  to,  which  was  held  at  the  Boston  Museum  of  P'ine 
Arts,  in  1881,  and  the  several  exhibitions  of  the  New  York  and  Philadelphia  clubs 
have  given  ample  evidence  of  the  wide  diffusion  of  the  practice  of  etching,  and  of  the 
numerical  strength  and  the  enthusiasm  of  its  devotees  in  the  United  States.  At  the 
Boston  exhibition  alone,  between  five  and  six  hundred  works  were  shown  by  over  one 
hundred  etchers. 

The  breadth  of  the  current  is  not  a guarantee  of  its  depth,  or  of  the  clearness  and 
salubrity  of  its  waters.  It  may  be  said,  therefore,  that  the  facts  and  figures  here  given 
prove  nothing  for  the  quality  of  the  work  done  by  our  etchers.  Nor  would  our  own 
testimony  be  admitted  as  unbiased  in  a court  of  law.  It  is  quite  justifiable,  therefore, 
that  we  should  look  to  the  testimony  of  Europe,  to  whose  judgment  we  are  so  ready 
to  submit  in  things  artistic.  That  testimony  has  been  given,  willingly  and  unhesita- 
tingly, in  favor  of  the  etchers  of  the  United  States.  Nearly  all  the  American  artists 


who  cared  to  apply  have  been  admitted  to  membership  in  the  Society  of  Paihter- 
Etchers,  of  London,  which  is  meant  to  embrace  all  the  best  talent,  and  only  the  best 
talent,  of  the  world ; and  wherever  our  etchers  have  exhibited  in  Europe,  their  works 
have  commanded  attention  and  elicited  comment.  They  have  thus  done  their  share 
bravely  toward  securing  for  American  art  the  standing  which  it  at  present  enjoys 
abroad. 

• S.  R.  Koehler 


S L/C  CESS  IN  ART 


RETROSPECTIVE  glance  at  the  art  progress  of  the  past 
few  years,  reveals  the  fact  that  there  exists  the  usual  duality 
of  success  which  is  common  to  all  the  other  professions. 
Money-makers  on  one  side  and  conscientious  painters  on 
the  other,  constitute  this  twofold  division. 

That  a large  sum  of  money  is  annually  invested  in 
paintings  and  fine  art  products,  though  it  may  be  small 
in  comparison  to  the  vast  expenditures  of  other  lands,  is  shown  by 


a perusal  of  the  account  sales  of  exhibitions.  That  the  greater  part 
of  this  money  is  divided  among  one  class  of  painters  also  becomes 
evident.  That  the  character  and  merit  of  the  pictures  produced  by  these 
men  are  not  such  as  will  ever  raise  the  standard  of  American  art  to  that 
eagle’s  height  where  we  are  anxious  to  see  it  soar. 

Facts  assure  us  that  to  a great  extent  this  class  has  secured  public  confidence : — 

First.  By  honest  effort,  which  in  many  cases  has  been  very  stupid. 

Second.  By  continually  exposing,  in  every  possible  exhibition,  numbers  of  their 
works,  thus  obliging  the  public  to  become  familiar  with  their  names. 

Third.  By  clinging  to  time-worn  subjects,  which,  however  indifferently  painted, 
are  certain  to  be  received  and  paid  for  by  the  public,  on  account  of  the  attractiveness 
of  association. 

Fourth.  By  the  prestige  arising  from  their  connection  with  art  institutions,  which 
they  had  secured  years  before  art  in  our  country  attained  even  the  advanced  position 
which  it  now  occupies,  but  which  by  no  means  indicates  real  merit. 

This  class  seems  to  have  held  the  purse-strings  of  the  public  in  times  past ; and 
unless  we  are  greatly  mistaken,  there  are  several  movements  on  foot  whereby  they 
propose  to  unloose  the  said  purse-strings  again  during  the  coming  season. 

We  might  call  them  “the  mercantile  painters.’’ 

We  have  abundant  proof,  which  we  could  easily  produce,  that  the  other  class  of 
artists  in  this  distribution,  who  receive  by  far,  the  smaller  share  of  pecuniary  return, 
are  few  in  number  and  occupy  a small  place  in  the  minds  of  the  art  public.  In  fact, 
they  are  appreciated  by  a mere  handful  of  art  patrons.  Yet,  every  work  sent  out  by 


them  is  characterized  by  real  merit,  is  original  in  composition,  color,  and  subject.  They 
work  carefully,  but  seldom  become  popular,  caring  little  for  empty  honors. 

These  are  the. men  who  paint  for  the  satisfaction  which  stirs  the  inmost  soul, 
when  an  appeal  from  nature  is  indelibly  fixed  on  their  canvas.  These  are  they 
who  will  carry  our  art  to  the  grand  position  it  is  destined  to  hold.  The  sooner  that 
our  art  patrons  become  aware  of  this  fact,  the  sooner  the  stars  and  stripes  will  wave 
apeak. 

This  lack  of  appreciation  of  thoroughly  serious  work,  on  the  part  of  the  art 
public,  is  the  great  disadvantage  against  which  the  American  painter  has  to  labor. 

The  young  painter,  having  finished  his  preliminary  studies  and  ready  to  begin 
his  professional  life,  finds  himself  immediately  confronted  with  a fork  in  the  road.  He 
must  at  once  decide  between  two  paths,  and  his  decision  is  not  based  on  uncertain 
speculations  at  all.  The  sign-boards  are  clearly  written,  and  substantially  they 
appear  thus : — 

The  larger  and  most  attractive  one  is  placed  in  a conspicuous  position,  on  a fine 
bronzed  standard,  which  rises  from  a pedestal  of  brick  and  mortar,  skillfully  wrought 
to  imitate  stone.  The  board  is  decorated  with  attractive  lettering  and  ornaments  in 
gold-leaf  The  heading  can  be  seen  from  afar,  and  is  so  interesting  that  one  must 
stop  first  before  it: 

To  financial  success ! 

The  tempting  index  points  down  a magnificent  roadway  lined  with  costly  build- 
ings— both  dwellings  and  stores.  The  stores  are  well  stocked  with  paintings,  and 
attended  by  glib-tongued,  shrewd  salesmen.  The  purchasers  in  them  know  nothing 
of  art.  They  go  to  these  magnificent  magazines  because  the  works  offered  for  sale 
are  recommended  by  the  shop-men  as  being  the  proper  thing  to  decorate  their  palaces. 

They  never  sit  down  before  a picture  with  any  other  feeling  than  that  inspired 
by  its  cost ! 

In  the  fine  avenues  are  magnificent  studios,  inhabited  by  the  artists  who  paint 
for  these  people.  Every  delight  is  here  which  the  mighty  dollar  can  accumulate. 
The  occupants  are  expensively  dressed,  fed  on  the  delicacies  of  the  land,  and  their 
business  is  so  large  that  they  are  obliged  to  have  agents  to  attend  to  their  bank 
accounts. 

The  pictures  they  paint  are  immensely  clever  and  attractive  for  a time.  The 
painters  do  not  love  their  art,  except  fo^  the  delights  which  the  bountiful  remunera- 
tion may  afford  them.  They  hate  to  work  because  it  is  so  methodical,  so  absolutely 
soulless. 

Their  pictures  are  but  repetitions  of  each  other  (for  such  repetition  of  what  is 
found  to  be  popular  is  the  key  to  financial  success).  One  must  not  do  anything 
unlike  his  stereotyped  style,  else  his  work  will  not  be  desired. 

Mrs.  Jones  wants  a picture  just  like  Mrs.  Brown,  you  know,  and  Mrs.  Smith 
follows  suit.  Mrs.  Green  wants  two  companion  works  by  Mr.  Snip,  because  there 
are  two  spaces,  exactly  the  same  size,  on  either  side  of  her  parlor  door.  Therefore, 
Mrs.  Jones  concludes  to  have  her  door  arranged  the  same  way,  because  she  wants 
places  for  two  of  Mr.  Snip’s  companion  pieces  just  like  Mrs.  Green’s,  you  know. 

The  young  painter  looks  for  the  other  sign-board  : 

There  is  no  noisy  attraction  here. 


He  will  have  to  hunt  some  time,  perhaps,  before  he  finds  the  quiet  old  monument. 
It  is  tried  and  storm-beaten,  because  it  has  stood  years  and  years.  It  has  witnessed 
the  returning  back  of  many  a young  man  who  had  chosen  the  road  to  true  greatness 
in  art,  and,  after  a few  years  of  hard  toil,  was  starved  out.  Broken  down  and  thread- 
bare, he  has  been  obliged  to  turn  back  and  seek  gilded  fortune  down  the  jeweled  road, 
or  famish  — friendless,  forsaken,  and  unappreciated  by  the  way. 

The  road  thus  indicated  is  comparatively  unfrequented.  An  occasional  fine  resi- 
dence is  found,  whose  owner  welcomes  the  painter  in.  His  grasp  is  cordial,  and  his 
thorough  appreciation  of  the  painter’s  subject  and  efforts  is  most  encouraging.  He 
loves  serious  things,  and  seizes  your  work  with  eagerness. 

But,  alas  ! these  men  are  are  too  scarce.  There  are  but  few  such  as  yet  in 
America,  and  happy  is  he  who  finds  them. 

It  is  not  generally  until  after  the  man  who  strives  for  truth  is  put  away  among 
the  dead  and  gone  that  he  becomes  appreciated. 

A post-mortem  success  is  his  ! 

There  are  two  phases  of  art  life  which  every  young  painter  will  do  well  to  con- 
sider before  he  pushes  ahead  : — 

The  one  will  give  him  the  inferior  satisfaction  which  arises  from  such  pleasures  as 
money  can  secure.  He  will  also  be  a favorite  with  the  art  public ; for  every  painter 
whose  works  sell  readily  is  sought  after  and  appreciated  by  connoisseurs  more 
intelligent  than  we  have  among  us. 

The  other  will  give  him  the  truer  and  deeper  satisfaction,  and,  although  the  luxu- 
ries of  life  and  the  plaudits  of  a shallow  public  may  not  be  his  lot,  he  may  be  sure  that 
a striving  for  the  serious  will  bring  him  out  near  the  head  when  at  last  his  hair  begins 
to  whiten  and  his  eyes  grow  dim. 

It  is  with  our  young  men  to  establish  American  art  firmly.  Will  they  do  it? 

'It  is  a long  and  hard  trial,  beset  with  snares  and  clogged  up  by  obstacles.  Will 
they  get  themselves  in  condition  for  the  struggle,  and  work  to  the  end  for  the  prize  ? 

The  great  future  of  America’s  art  would  be  close  at  hand  if  a united  effort  could 
be  made  in  the  right  direction.  It  depends  upon  the  painters  to  make  this  effort.  If 
the  public  is  to  be  educated,  the  painters  must  be  at  it. 

There  is  already  much  of  the  right  seed  sown,  and  a careful  cultivation  will  pro- 
duce a hundred-fold,  aye,  a thousand. 


Frank  T.  Lent 


COLOR  IN  WORKS  OF  ART 


5 HEN  we  speak  of  certain  works  by  Rubens  or  Titian  or 
Delacroix  or  Corot  as  having  “color,”  we  mean  that 
they  display  a certain  harmony  of  tones  — a harmony 
difficult  to  analyze  or  reason  about  or  even  to  describe. 
It  requires  a delicate  and  healthy  nervous  organization 
and  a mind  untroubled  by  other  matters  to  perceive 
and  appreciate  it.  “Tone,”  itself,  is  something  that  is  not 
readily  definable.  And  as  for  laying  down  rules  by  which 
it  may  be  judged  that  a picture  or  other  work  of  art  has  or  has  not  color 
or  tone,  that  is  altogether  impossible. 

But  by  speaking,  first,  of  color  in  good  decorative  work,  always 
simpler  than  the  coloring  proper  to  pictures,  it  may  be  possible  to  arrive 
at  practical  definitions  of  these  terms  and  others  like  them  as  they  are 
commonly  used.  And,  in  this  way,  we  may  also  get  at  some  idea  of 
the  general  principles  of  coloring.  These  latter  will  not  include  every- 
thing that  an  artist  should  attend  to,  to  be  a colorist,  yet  they  are  by  no 
means  unimportant.  It  should  be  worth  while  to  state  them  shortly,  if 
only  for  the  purpose  of  showing  how  little  there  is  that  can  be  positively  said  about 
color  and  how  much  in  relation  to  the  subject  is  matter  of  feeling  and  individual  taste. 

It  has  been  assumed  that  the  laws  of  color  might  be  derived  from  an  analysis  of 
nature.  So,  no  doubt,  they  might  if  it  were  not  far  more  difficult  to  analyze  nature 
than  the  works 'of  Rubens  or  Delacroix.  Attempts  have  been  made  to  evolve  a 
science  of  coloring  from  measurements  of  color-vibrations  and  from  the  little  that  is 
known  concerning  their  influence  on  the  nerves.  Nothing  that  is  of  any  importance 
to  art  has  come  of  such  efforts.  The  experiments  of  a more  elementary  sort  carried 
out  by  M.  de  Chevreuil  resulted  in  the  adoption  of  a nomenclature  that  is  sometimes 
serviceable;  but  that  is  all.  We  knew  that  orange  looked  more  brilliant  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  blue  than  it  did  elsewhere,  before  we  had  learned  to  speak  of  these  colors 
as  the  “ complementaries”  of  one  another,  and  we  knew  that  red  gives  a more  power- 
ful sensation  than  brown  before  we  had  begun  to  talk  of  the  first  as  a “ primary  ” 
color  and  of  the  other  as  a “tertiary”  one.  In  fact,  all  the  principles  of  coloring  now 


known  were  known  and  practiced  many  centuries  ago ; and  it  is  much  easier  to 
demonstrate  them  in  fine  decorations  than  to  deduce  them  from  scientific  data. 

It  may  be  set  down,  to  begin  with,  that  bright  and  strong  colors  are  more  pleas- 
ing than  dull  or  weak  or  dark  ones.  The  testimony  of  all  great  colorists  is  to  that 
effect.  It  should  not  be  considered  vulgar  in  a person  to  like  vermilion  and  lime-white 
and  sky-blue.  It  is  as  natural  as  it  is  to  prefer  sweet  things  to  bitter.  When  people 
really  like  dull  colors  best,  they  must  be  in  an  unenviable  state  of  body  or  of  mind. 
As  a rule,  they  are  merely  tired,  for  the  time  being,  of  the  brighter  tints. 

It  must  be  admitted,  though,  that  strong  and  brilliant  colors,  if  used  over 
large  surfaces  and  unmitigated  in  any  manner,  soon  become  fatiguing.  In  periods  in 
which  splendid  decorative  work  was  produced,  they  were  used  mainly  in  the  temples 
or  churches  or  other  places  seldom  entered,  where  they  were,  moreover,  tempered  by 
shade  and  by  distance  or,  as  in  Egypt,  almost  effaced  by  the  glare  of  light.  In 
ordinary  habitations  and  on  things  that  were  constantly  before  the  eye,  it  has  been 
the  almost  universal  practice  to  use  a lower  range  of  tints,  which,  besides  being  less 
trying  to  the  eye,  were  perhaps  more  cheaply  got.  Rather  dull  reds,  purples,  and 
orange-browns  were  used  Instead  of  the  purer  colors,  grass-green  instead  of  emerald- 
green  and  turquoise-blue  instead  of  cobalt  and,  above  all,  some  tint  of  gray  instead  of 
pure  white,  as  the  ground.  But  this  was  felt  to  be  an  inferior  kind  of  coloring. 

There  seems  to  have  never  been  a time,  until  the  present,  when  people  did  not 
discriminate  between  one  blue  and  another,  and  between  one  red  and  another,  though 
they  were  equally  bright  and  deep.  The  preferred  tint  w'as  one  that  had  some  variety 
in  itself,  due  to  a barely  perceptible  shading  of  some  other  color  or  to  texture  or 
transparency.  This  is  what  we  call  “ quality.”  Though  plenty  of  crude  color  was 
used  by  the  Egyptians,  and  also,  most  likely,  by  the  Greeks,  rich  and  varied  tints 
were  greatly  enjoyed.  To  form  a proper  idea  of  the  magnificence  of  ancient  Egyptian 
coloring,  we  are  told  by  a high  authority  that  we  should  imagine  not  a combination 
of  ordinary  coarse  pigments,  but  rather  of  lapis  lazuli,  red  and  green  jasper,  ivory  and 
ebony  and  gold  ; and  Mr.  Poynter  assures  us  that  the  greatest  pains  were  taken  by 
the  Graeco-Italian  artists  of  Pompeii  and  other  Roman  towns  to  obtain  fine  texture 
and  a soft  harmonious  tone  in  the  mere  ground  of  white  stucco  on  which  they  were  to 
work.  In  this  way,  without  descending  too  often  to  a low  scheme  of  color,  the  eye 
was  afforded  a rest. 

In  the  coloring  of  the  ancient  Egyptians,  every  tint  used  has  a distinct  “value” 
as  a dark  or  as  a light.  Beginning  with  black,  they  had  next  a deep  blue, 
then  red,  a turquoise-blue  or  blue-green,  yellow  or  gold,  and  white.  The  last  was  in 
fine  work  a little  grayish  or  of  an  ivory  tone.  The  contrasts  of  darker  and  lighter 
thus  afforded  were  used,  as  they  have  always  been  by  decorators  who  understood  what 
they  were  about,  principally  to  bring  out  the  design ; but  they  have  an  influence  on 
the  color  effect  as  well.  There  is  another  difference  between  some  of  these  colors  and 
the  rest.  The  red,  the  white,  yellow,  and  greenish-blue  of  the  above  scale  and, 
generally,  all  yellowish  or  reddish  tints  have  a lively  and  warm  appearance.  The 
blue,  the  black,  and  grayish  white,  when  tinged  with  blue,  look  cold  and  funereal. 
Differences  of  purity  again,  if  not  sought  for,  were  not  avoided.  When  all  these 
shades  and  hues  and  tints  were  used  together,  the  dark  shades  made  the  light  ones 
seem  paler,  the  cold  colors  made  the  warm  ones  warmer,  the  dull  added  brilliancy  to 


the  purer.  Those  effects  it  is  the  business  of  a colorist  to  manage,  so  that  the  contrasts 
shall  not  be  shocking  nor  be  so  crowded  as  to  become  confusing.  When  this  result  is 
attained  and  the  general  effect  is  harmonious,  although  each  color  is  clear  and  distinct, 
we  have  the  finest  example  of  what  is  called  “color  ” as  distinct  from  colors  or  coloring. 

It  is  a result  that  it  is  extremely  hard  to  arrive  at.  Even  the  Egyptians,  as  a 
rule,  sacrificed  the  purity  and  the  brilliancy  of  some  of  their  colors  to  secure  harmony. 
Their  expedients  of  using  only  one  or  two  strong  colors  in  any  quantity  in  a composi- 
tion, the  others  in  much  smaller  amount  and  more  broken  up,  balancing  and  separating 
the  groups  with  black  and  plenty  of  white,  did  not  always  succeed  well  enough  to 
satisfy  themselves.  Most  often,  all  their  colors  were  assimilated  to  one,  commonly 
yellow  ; so  that,  on  a yellowish  ground,  we  find  an  orange-red,  a dark  greenish  gray, 
and  a very  greenish  turquoise,  instead  of  the  red  and  dark  and  light  blue  already 
mentioned.  Such  a plan,  when  successful,  gives  “tone”  not  “color.” 

A fine  picture  by  any  of  the  great  masters  of  color  is  sure  to  contain  several 
“ tones,”  forming  a harmony  among  themselves.  In  a picture  by  Corot  those  tones 
would  be  obtained  as  just  described  by  the  blending  of  the  pigments  on  the  palette  or 
the  canvas,  or  by  glazing;  in  one  by  Delacroix,  by  the  juxtaposition  of  touches  of 
pure  pigment  that  seem  to  blend  at  a little  distance.  Thus,  one  part  of  a picture  may 
have  a bluish  tone  and  another  a yellowish,  each  tone  being  made  up  of  a multitude 
of  tints  or  even  pure  colors  that  blend  harmoniously  to  the  eye ; but  though  these 
“tones”  agree  among  themselves  they  do  not  blend  at  any  distance  at  which  the 
design  can  be  traced.  The  picture  has,  therefore,  the  same  quality  that  belongs  to  the 
Egyptian  decorations  of  the  finest  character.  It  is  composed  of  separate  masses,  each 
having  its  own  proper  color  effect,  but  all  agreeing  to  form  a harmonious  whole. 
It  has  “ color.” 

There  have  always  been  many  more  great  designers  than  great  colorists.  At  the 
present  time  there  are  but  few  who  can  be  said  to  be  colorists  at  all.  In  most  cases, 
painters  of  the  modern  French  school  are  satisfied  with  obtaining  a rather  poor  and 
cold  tone.  The  Germans,  who  aim,  as  a rule,  at  a warm  tone,  are  very  apt  to  miss 
tone  altogether  — to  be  discordant,  “ foxy  ” or  “bricky.”  America  can  claim  her  full 
share,  or  more  than  that,  of  the  modern  colorists  and  tonists.  The  late  Wm.  M.  Hunt, 
John  La  Farge,  Sargeant,  Whistler,  S.  Coleman,  Swain  Gifford,  Winslow  Homer, 
H.  D.  Martin,  Alden  Weir,  etc.,  etc.,  are  as  good  as  any  that  live.  To  find  better,  we 
must  go  back  to  the  artists  of  the  late  romantic  school  in  France,  and  to  the  single 
^ example  of  Turner  in  England. 

R.  Riordan 


PHOTOGRAPHY 

SOMETHING  OF  ITS  PROGRESS,  AND  ITS  RELATION  TO  THE  FINE  ARTS. 


CANNING  the  photographic  horizon  of  to  day  with  one  of  the 
most  approved  of  modern  instruments,  and  listening  to  the 
rumors  which  fill  the  air  of  the  new  things  to  come,  I can- 
not perceive  that  there  is  anything  new  — absolutely  new 
— of  which  to  make  mention  ; in  fact,  since  the  discov- 
eries of  the  alchemists  who  noticed  the  action  of  light 
upon  silver  chloride,  and  experimented  with  the  sun- 
prints  of  over  a hundred  years  ago,  though  there  has 
been  much  development,  there  has  been  nothing  abso- 
lutely new  in  photography,  and  all  the  new  life  has  sprung  from  preexistent  factors. 
The  first  crude  prints  upon  surfaces  that  had  been  sensitized  to  the  action  of  light, 
for  aught  that  has  been  discovered  since,  possessed  the  germs  and  indicated  the  powers 
and  relations  of  all  future  photography. 

From  time  to  time  new  ideas  have  been  ingrafted  on  old  ones,  the  quality  and 
durability  of  work,  as  well  as  the  time  taken  to  produce  it,  have  been  very  much 
improved,  until  the  old-time  profile,  the  silver-type,  the  picture  on  glass,  and  the 
daguerreotype  have  nearly  all  disappeared  in  their  turn,  and  given  place  to  the  more 
modern  photograph. 

The  simple  camera  obscura,  invented  by  Porta  in  the  year  1650,  served  for 
photographic  experiments  so  long  as  the  art  remained  in  its  infancy  ; but  as  the  art 
progressed,  it  was  soon  found  that  this  instrument  was  too  imperfect  to  satisfy  the 
increasing  demands  upon  it,  and  a most  material  improvement  was  effected  by 
Petzval  and  Voigtlander  ; other  and  still  more  valuable  improvements  have  been 
made  within  the  past  few  years  by  Voigtlander,  until  to-day  the  apparatus  is  well- 
nigh  perfect,  leaving  little  or  nothing  to  be  desired.  It  now  gives  a large-sized 


picture,  correctly  drawn,  equally  distinct  in  all  its  parts,  commands  a most  intense 
light,  and  is  equally  adapted  for  portraying  as  for  taking  views  of  architectural  objects. 

Eminent  experimentalists,  on  the  science  side,  have  been  engaged  for  years  in 
researches  on  the  chemical  alterations  and  modifications  produced  in  various  bodies 
by  the  action  of  light,  endeavoring  to  ascertain  whether  other  compounds  than  silver 
might  not  be  used  in  photography  with  the  same  degree  of  success  — whether  or 
not  the  accidental  results  of  color,  reported  to  have  been  produced  by  Biot, 
Becquerel,  and  others,  might  not  be  more  thoroughly  understood,  and  reduced  to 

something  like  a law  of  definite  mixing  proportions.  But  further  than  some  very 

interesting  variations,  of  a decidedly  transitory  nature,  that  have  been  produced  by 
combinations  of  different  metallic  salts,  there  have  been  no  important  discoveries  in 
this  direction.  There  has  been  a radical  improvement,  however,  in  the  methods  of 
preparing  plates  ; indeed,  the  wide  range  of  possibilities  within  reach  of  the  camera 
has  never  been  so  clearly  demonstrated  to  the  world  as  in  the  dry  plate  or  emulsion 
processes  of  to-day. 

The  physical  characteristics  of  the  sensitive  salts  used  in  the  preparation  of  these 
dry  plates  are  wonderful,  and  it  is  their  sensitiveness  and  quality  that  constitutes 

perhaps  their  greatest  charm.  When  it  is  said  — and  said  truly  — that  a plate  can 

be  prepared  which  needs  but  one-sixtieth  part  of  a second  to  secure  a soft  and  har- 
monious negative,  when  a view  is  fairly  lighted,  there  is  a feeling  that  the  era  fore- 
shadowed in  the  discoveries  of  the  past  century  has  at  last  dawned.  Instantaneous 
views  are  now  possible  under  circumstances  which  were  hitherto  impossible,  and  we 
may  now  have  that  motion,  life,  and  expression  from  nature  that  have  heretofore  been 
wanting. 

Perhaps  no  one  of  the  numerous  civilizing  and  educational  agencies  of  the  nine- 
teenth century  has  received  so  little  encouragement  as  Photography.  Indeed,  its 
difficulties  and  varied  capacity  are  but  little  understood  by  the  general  public  to-day, 
and,  until  within  a very  few  years  there  has  been  no  disposition  to  look  upon  this 
beautiful  art  otherwise  than  as  a sort  of  phenomena,  a curious  result  of  certain 
chemical  combinations,  wonderful  enough  in  its  way,  but  altogether  too  fleeting  to  be 
of  any  particular  value  to  the  human  race.  The  profession  having  also  been  founded  by 
mechanics  is  still  weighed  down  by  the  shackles  inflicted  upon  it  at  its  birth,  and  a 
strong  prejudice  yet  exists  against  its  recognition  as  an  art.  Many  of  the  soi  disant 
critics  or  connoisseurs  will  express  unbounded  admiration,  and  work  themselves  up 
to  great  enthusiasm  over  portraits,  bad  in  drawing,  poor  in  color,  flat  and  meaningless 
in  light  and  shade,  and  devoid  of  character  and  expression  ; yet  these  same  dilettant 
will  totally  ignore  a splendid  photographic  work,  masterly  in  treatment  and  con- 
ception, effectively  and  brilliantly  lighted,  dignified,  intelligent,  and  refined  in  pose, 
and  faithfully  transferred  to  paper-canvas  by  the  camera,  instead  of  the  too  often 
treacherous  hand  of  the  draughtsman-painter. 

Thanks,  however,  to  the  achievements  of  the  chemist,  the  optician,  and  lovers  of 
art  generally,  photography  has  been  elevated  to  a position  among  the  fine  arts,  where 
it  has  ample  scope  to  demonstrate  its  ability  to  please,  instruct,  and  elevate,  taking  a 
place  next  the  chisel  and  the  brush. 

It  is  not  decreed  for  humanity  to  give  a visible  expression  of  the  higher,  or  ideal, 
conceptions  of  men  without  the  assistance  of  matter,  and  matter  cannot  appeal  to  the 


finer  senses  without  the  direction  of  the  mind.  Thus  it  is  possible,  if  taste  and  culture 
are  brought  to  bear,  to  reconcile  the  ideal  with  the  real,  so  that  they  become  mutual 
aids  to  harmony.  A great  deal  of  idealistic  conception  is  born  and  cradled  in  realistic 
nature, — the  germ  often  taking  root  in  human  sentiment,  and  depending  for  develop- 
ment upon  our  power  to  appreciate  the  beautiful  whenever  and  however  it  presents 
itself  to  us.  Nature,  though  beautiful  in  detail,  is  not  necessarily  so  in  combination, 
and  requires  a fine  discriminating  understanding  to  group  its  parts  into  a harmonious 
whole.  It  is  given  to  many  to  admire  a good  picture,  but  to  few  the  gift  of  concep- 
tion. This  exalted  excellence  cannot  be  attained  by  the  most  subtle  combinations  of 
science  alone  ; opticians  and  chemists  labor  in  vain  unless  the  same  power  of  idealistic 
conception  of  the  beautiful,  the  same  refinement  of  mind  which  pervades  the  works  of 
the  old  masters  join  hand  in  hand  — the  only  essential  difference  being  the  mode  of 
record.  Under  the  direction  of  the  master-mind  photography  is  capable  of  giving  the 
truest  and  most  subtle  expressions  of  nature,  and  is  naturally  an  art  by  which  its 
beauties  can  be  most  faithfully  recorded. 

With  this  power  in  his  hands,  the  photographer  becomes  the  disseminator  of  a 
true  art ; not  forgetting  that  on  his  ability  as  an  artist,  and  not  as  a scientist  or 
mechanic,  will  depend  the  fineness  of  the  art  he  produces  — in  the  proportion  that  he 
learns  to  rely  less  upon  his  chemicals  and  mechanical  appliances  and  more  upon  him- 
self. The  demands  of  modern  photography  will  not  allow  of  mere  mechanical  manip- 
ulation in  any  department  of  the  photographic  studio.  Artistic  pictures  cannot  be 
manufactured  by  any  fixed  rule  ; every  scene  and  every  face  must  be  treated  accord- 
ing to  its  own  peculiarities  and  according  to  well  known  principles  in  art ; harmony, 
contrast,  and  distance — which  enter  into  the  composition  of  every  picture, — must  be 
taken  into  consideration. 

Scarcely  any  other  branch  of  photography  has  enjoyed  so  much  popularity  as 
that  of  portrait-taking.  Most  persons  conceive,  under  the  term  photographer,  only  a 
portraitist,  and  only  a few  are  aware  that  photography  is  good  for  something  else. 
The  photographic  portrait  owes  its  popularity  to  its  extraordinary  cheapness,  to  its 
rapid  mode  of  execution,  and  to  its  relatively  greater  resemblance  when  compared 
with  the  drawings  from  nature.  Imperfect  photography  can  reckon,  on  account  of 
these  circumstances,  on  greater  support  than  the  drawing  of  a clumsy  artist.  In  fact, 
photography  has  driven  the  mechanical  portrait-painter  out  of  the  field ; only  the 
genuine  artist  having  been  able  to  hold  his  ground  against  it.  Portrait-photography 
makes  greater  demands  than  any  other  branch  of  the  art  on  the  good  taste  of  the 
operator,  his  capacity  to  give  a natural  or,  at  least,  apparently  a natural,  picturesque, 
unstudied  pose  to  a person ; it  requires  him  to  show  the  best  side  of  the  sitter,  to 

conceal,  so  far  as  possible,  any  defect  that  may  exist,  to  bring  out  all  that  is  advan- 

* 

tageous,  and  leave  indistinct  by  a clever  adaptation  of  light  those  points  which  would 
injure  the  effect  of  a picture.  He  is  required  to  take  the  portraits  of  persons  for  the 
most  part  unknown  to  him,  often  seeing  them  in  the  operating-room  for  the  first  time; 
and  upon  the  work  he  produces  under  circumstances  like  these  he  stands  or  falls  in  the 
estimation  of  the  public  as  an  artist. 

In  order  that  photography  may  keep  pace  with  the  rapid  progress  of  art  ideas  in 
this  country,  and  demonstrate  its  right  to  a place  in  the  sisterhood  of  fine  arts,  it  is 
necessary  to  free  it  from  many  of  the  weights  of  conventionalism,  and  instill  into  the 


minds  of  its  devotees  higher  ideas  of  art.  All  workers  in  any  department  of  art 
should  strive  to  be  teachers  and  exponents  of  progressive  ideas,  rather  than  mere 
caterers  to  the  public  taste.  Photographers  should  be  fully  alive  to  the  necessity  of  a 
more  thorough  and  general  art  study  in  connection  with  the  practice  of  their  profes- 
sion. They  should  look  toward  as  thorough  instruction  as  possible  in  the  general 
principles  of  art,  especially  as  applied  to  portraiture.  In  fact,  it  is  not  only  desirable 
but  essential  to  a high  degree  of  excellence  that  a course  of  drawing  the  human  head, 
as  well  as  a study  of  the  general  principles  of  light  and  shade,  be  made  the  foundation 
of  a course  of  photography.  They  should  associate  themselves  with  some  one  of  the 
many  amateur  societies  throughout  the  land,  organized  for  the  purpose  of  promoting  the 
art,  getting  in  this  way  the  personal  benefits  to  be  received  by  occasional  contact  with 
minds  engaged  in  the  study  of  experimental  photography.  Let  American  photog- 
raphers awaken  then  to  a sense  of  the  progress  that  has  been  and  is  being  made  in 
the  other  branches  of  the  fine  arts  ; let  the  work  they  produce  be  more  suitable  to  this 
age  and  nation  ; let  it  constantly  evidence  the  desire  for  a higher,  more  artistic  char- 
acter ; let  them  aim  to  develop  the  rich  capacities  of  this  art,  and  we  may  yet  hope 
to  raise  a standard  that  shall  be  universally  followed. 

Edward  A.  Robinson 


MEMORIAL  ART 


have  been  two  periods  of  sculpture,  the  Greek  and 
the  Italian  ; all  others  have  been  derivative  or  preceding. 
Egyptian,  with  its  colossal  symbolism  typifying  eternity, 
still  strikes  us  with  wonder,  but  it  is  crude  if  it  is  mighty, 
an  abstraction  too  vague  to  embody  life  in  its  essence. 
The  Greek  was  living, — an  organism,  if  you  break  it,  it  is 
still  living  in  its  parts.  Like  nature,  structure  shows  in 
every  fragment.  The  Italians  put  naturalistic  expression 
and  motive  into  art.  Florence  was  the  most  vital  city> 
in  its  genius,  of  modern  times, — a lesser  Athens,  touch- 
ing other  keys  of  feeling.  Michael  Angelo  in  his  David  gave  a new  note.  We  can- 
not look  at  it  without  thinking  here  is  the  embodiment  of  modern  times, — alert, 
springing  forward,  ready  to  leap  over  mountains.  Nowhere  is  the  life  better  given. 
It  would  fly.  It  is  the  youthful  Christian  as  distinguished  from  pagan  calmness. 
The  head  is  full  of  meaning.  See  the  cast  of  it,  as  it  has  lately  been  reproduced, 
and  you  have  a world  of  feeling  the  Greek  never  knew.  Michael  Angelo  created 
the  new  world.  All  that  Gothic  architecture  had  done  for  sentiment  and  religion 
he  summed  up  in  his  mystic  works.  He  left  a world  to  grow  on  forever  and 
pointed  the  way.  Donatello  saw  nature  also  in  the  mirror  of  feeling,  and  other 
Tuscans  and  Italians.  This  was  something  superadded  to  Greek  art.  The  Greek 
was  perfect,  because  he  was  limited ; the  Christian  could  not  be  perfect,  because 
he  felt  more  than  he  could  do.  The  feeling  in  the  renaissance  sculpture  on  the 
tombs  in  Italy  is  as  sincere  portraiture  as  has  been  seen : refinement,  delicacy, 
poetry  itself  In  its  low-reliefs  the  tender  marble  blushes  into  life.  It  had  passed 
through  the  Gothic  and  got  its  inspiration  there.  That  remarkable  race  set  the 
fashion  of  all  modern  art  as  of  all  modern  science  and  civilization.  The  Italians  first 
modified  ancient  architecture  to  suit  modern  requirements,  and  it  is  an  interesting 
study  to  observe  the  growth  of  detail  and  inventions  under  the  hands  of  Bramante, 
Brunelleschi,  Michael  Angelo,  in  houses  still  inhabited  and  colossal  piles  built  with 
Etruscan  solemnity.  No  people  have  built  so  majestically.  Coming  by  the  Cornice 
road  the  door-ways  grow,  and  the  sense  of  loftiness,  generosity  of  area  pervades  all  the 


commonest  structure.  The  Florentines  were  the  first  in  the  field  — the  bridge,  the  link 
from  antiquity  to  modern  times,  although  Venice  was  earlier  with  her  sweet  and 
perfect  Gothic  style.  Italy  did  work  all  over  Europe  in  its  palmy  days,  and  was  the 
master  of  all  countries.  Italians  still  can  manage  large  compositions,  toss  the  figure 
about,  do  decorative  groups  better  than  other  races.  Realism  is  now  their  cue.  The 
Napoleon  statue,  the  soap-scrubbing  mother  have  been  popular  at  great  exhibitions, 
and  gone  round  the  world.  Races  retain  their  old  mastery.  The  Spaniards  are  still 
masculine,  the  Belgians  historic,  the  Dutch  sturdy  — the  best  marine  artists,  with  the 
Scandinavians. 

Our  country  is  covered  with  monuments  off-hand  when  there  is  no  genius  in  the 
air.  As  architecture  patterns  itself  on  all  previous  ages,  eclectic  and  imitative,  still 
seeking  for  results  out  of  all  known  styles,  expressing  itself  by  none  exclusively  or 
adequately,  sculpture  ransacks  all  possible  motives  ; but  the  designs  of  soldiers’ 
monuments  savor  of  the  carpenter  rather  than  the  artist. 

Design  is  the  rarest  and  greatest  of  artistic  gifts.  It  sums  up  all  others  which  are 
tributary  to  it.  It  is  creative.  We  may  not  look  for  it  yet.  The  arts  are  beginning 
this  side  the  water — scarcely  on  their  feet.  Clever  men  are  not  imaginative  men.  It 
is  an  American  mistake  to  consider  so.  Smartness  is  not  genius,  but  we  commonly 
think  that  talent  will  do  everything,  even  to  Michael  Angelo  and  Shakespeare.  It  is 
the  current  conviction.  The  space  that  separates  genius  from  commonplace  is  not 
dreamed  of  This  is  natural  in  a commercial  country.  All  art  is  ideal  in  some  sense 
or  it  is  nothing ; but  fancy  merely,  or  prettiness  have  been  our  motives,  and  in  art  and 
poetry  they  have  been  believed  to  be  imagination.  Ingenuity  has  been  taken  to  be 
creativeness  ; the  faculty  which  invents  apple-parers  and  mowing-machines,  the  same 
faculty  which  does  poetry  and  art. 

Let  us  try  to  see  what  there  is,  in  Boston,  of  merit  in  the  monumental  way,  if 
there  is  anything.  The  most  important  is  the  most  cheap  and  conventional,  the 
soldiers’  monument.  Borrowed  from  Rome,  it  is  lacking  in  dignity  and  nobility.  The 
site  saves  it.  At  sunset,  gleams  of  the  sinking  sun  strike  on  the  masses  behind  the 
trees,  and  the  effect  is  tender  and  impressive.  The  subordination  of  the  statues  to  the 
impression  of  the  whole  is  not  achieved.  They  are  not  incorporated  in  it,  but  meager 
and  unconnected.  There  is  absolutely  no  design  in  it,  architectural  or  monumental. 
The  Ether  monument  avails  itself  of  Gothic,  but,  leaving  out  its  grace  and  its  flexibility, 
is  cramped.  The  sculpture  on  it  is  the  only  masterly  bit  in  the  city.  The  group  of 
Lincoln  is  totally  without  design.  Sumner  is  weak,  Everett  starched.  The  Hamilton 
statue,  august  in  presence  ; but  like  a terminal  figure,  it  has  no  form.  The  statue  of 
Samuel  Adams  is  the  best  design,  strong  in  character,  but  mastery  is  sadly  lacking. 
The  equestrian  group,  for  so  difficult  a subject,  is  fairly  well  handled.  The  horse  and 
rider  are  too  picture-book  as  we  see  them  across  the  garden.  The  rider  is  stiff.  The 
horse  has  much  merit  in  the  fore  parts. 

The  Erench,  with  talent,  have  done  effective  work  ; the  Germans  correct,  cold 
work.  Perhaps  the  best  modern  work  as  a monument  is  at  Berlin,  the  Frederick  the 
Great.  The  effort  of  the  English  at  Kensington  Gardens  is  but  a partial  success. 
There  is  merit  in  the  bas-relief  of  distinguished  men  banding  the  over-sumptuous  pile. 
The  statue  of  Prince  Albert  himself  is  execrably  wanting  in  life  and  plasticity.  It  is 
not  a free  or  chaste  design,  and  derives  its  effect  from  profuse  magnificence  rather 


than  original  conception.  Gothic  can  be  imitated,  not  reproduced.  Imitation  of 
Greek  or  Gothic  or  any  great  style,  which  was  once  the  life  of  an  age,  is  always  sure 
to  be  dead  in  literature  or  art.  We  wait  for  new  styles.  They  have  married  ancient 
and  modern  in  the  so-called  Queen  Anne  style,  whose  masses  are  Gothic,  detail, 
renaissance : the  best  civic  style  of  later  times,  having  the  suppleness  of  one,  the 
emotion  ; — the  grace,  and  sweetness  of  the  other. 

So  far  as  we  know,  the  Farragut  monument  is  the  best,  because  the  most  truthful 
and  searching,  reaching  out  after  nothing  but  fact,  but  treating  it  artistically  and  with 
mastery.  True,  the  base  is  scratched  rather  than  modeled.  Let  there  be  mastery  in 
portraiture  or  sculpture,  the  rendering  of  the  life,  and  we  have  art.  It  is  rare.  The 
old  masters  did  it  with  directness;  hence  portraits  are  as  great  art  as  there  is.  Velas- 
quez, the  greatest  of  realists,  Rembrandt,  the  most  original  of  imaginative  men,  find 
their  great  fame  here.  We  do  not  need  a cheap  invention,  ideality,  or  sentimentality, 
substitute  for  living  work.  It  would  indeed  be  impossible  to  erect  monuments  all 
over  an  immense  country,  as  we  have  been  doing,  and  all  in  one  epoch,  and  have 
them  anything  but  fantastic  and  common  as  they  are.  The  Greeks  themselves,  the 
embodiment  and  module  of  all  art,  the  old  Italians  would  have  shrunk  from  such  a 
task,  hesitated  at  such  a manufacture. 

The  Farragut  statue  is  the  expression  of  the  time  in  art,  nature  done  with  truth, 
with  simplicity  and  feeling, — direct  as  greatest  work  always  is,  if  we  subtly  seize 
character  and  achieve  life.  It  is  the  conviction.  Nature  is  enough,  an  incessant  mira- 
cle if  we  are  equal  to  her.  But  we  do  not  master  her,  and  here  is  the  defect  of  Bos- 
ton work.  Mastery  has  not  been  in  our  art.  It  is  tame  and  lifeless  all  over  the  city, 
insipid  in  feeling.  Perfect  mastery  is  greatness.  Michael  Angelo’s,  Da  Vinci’s  work, 
Botticelli’s  is  mastery,  vital.  The  supreme  master  creates  a new  life ; subordinate  men 
do  spirited  and  effective  work.  The  French  seemed  to  be  alive  in  sculpture  at  Munich 
four  years  ago.  Yet  at  Paris,  the  previous  year,  the  exhibit  was  profuse  rather  than 
great. 

Two  monuments  in  Savannah  please  one.  The  one,  a simple  unornamented  shaft 
of  various  blocks,  keeps  green  a nameless  memory.  It  is  enough  that  it  is  enshrined 
in  the  people’s  hearts.  This  is  the  monument  to  General  Greene,  of  revolutionary 
fame.  There  is  no  inscription  on  it,  not  even  a date.  It  is  the  most  touching  thing 
in  the  country.  Every  orator  should  be  led  up  to  it  to  cure  his  mortuary  eloquence. 
How  could  we  be  so  silent  ? The  other  is  to  Pulaski,  done  about  fifty  years  ago,  and 
it  shames  the  tawdry  and  contemporary  work  raised  to  the  soldiers  of  the  Confederate 
army.  Some  wave  of  taste  and  simplicity  got  into  Savannah,  for  there  are  a banking 
house  and  a church  of  conspicuous  elegance. 

Of  English  modern  work,  Wilberforce,  in  Westminster  Abbey,  illustrates  the 
merit  of  simple  life-likeness  and  truthfulness,  character.  Chantry’s  children  at  Litch- 
field delight  one  with  their  innocent  feeling.  Houdin’s  Voltaire  in  France  recalls  the 
life  with  extraordinary  vividness.  It  is  where  everybody  sees  it  — in  the  theater. 

Let  us  console  ourselves  that  the  result  is  not  worse  but  better  than  the  buckram 
men  in  bronze,  which  confront  one  out  of  countenance  by  the  side  of  Westminster 
Abbey.  We  have  at  least  preserved  our  refinement  in  Boston.  In  monuments  there 
is  a quiet  taste,  if  no  spirited  design.  Ostentation  and  conventionality  do  not  charac- 
terize the  architecture,  but  intelligence  and  education.  Genius  ! where  is  it  to  be  found 


in  this  eclectic  and  historic-seeking  age  ? Perhaps  nowhere  is  the  performance  better 
as  far  as  it  goes.  It  is  a tentative,  an  imitative,  a transitional  age.  We  know  all  past 
styles  and  works.  They  are  brought  home  to  us.  It  is  an  cinbarras  de  richesse.  We 
do  not  express  for  ourselves,  but  through  past  ages.  The  ancients  did  form  because 
they  saw  nature  as  personality,  and  we  see  it  as  symbolism,  suggestion.  They  culti- 
vated the  body,  we  the  soul.  The  soul  is  not  hostile  to  the  body,  although  for  long 
ages  the  Christian  religion  made  it  so,  setting  one  over  against  the  other,  the  Puritan 
aiding  in  this  joyless  extinguishing  of  delight  in  beauty  and  in  nature. 

The  Greeks,  the  Romans  lined  their  public  ways  with  houses  of  the  dead  ; 
monuments  where  friends  assembled  to  commune  with  the  departed.  Stone  benches 
were  curved  around  the  ashes.  They  did  not  stuff  them  away  in  the  moldy  earth, 
and  horrify  the  spirit  with  ghastly  cross-bones  and  hideous  emblems  of  mortality. 
Cheerful  symbols  met  the  eye.  It  was  enough  that  they  were  dead.  They  did  not 
need  to  accentuate  the  desolation  and  the  harrowing  of  grief.  They  visited  their 
tombs,  they  sat  beside  them  and  with  them,  and  daily  passed  their  last  abode.  In 
this  way  the  dead  were  kept  with  them  and  in  their  sight.  It  is  touching  yet  to  see 
the  relics  of  a nation  passed  away,  unknown  families,  once  mighty  in  their  day,  whose 
history  is  forgotten,  a buried  people  obliterated  in  their  tombs.  Pompeii  is  approached 
by  a street  of  tombs.  Athens  they  have  lately  uncovered,  to  discover  fresh  instances 
of  the  matchless  refinement  of  the  Greeks.  Refinement  outshines  the  most  elaborate 
sumptuousness.  In  architecture  this  quality  goes  farthest,  and  will  tell  when  in  the 
other  arts  it  is  powerless  to  redeem  poverty  of  invention  or  scantiness  of  performance. 
Let  the  proportion  be  perfect  and  design  appropriate,  and  enrichment  is  an  intrusion, 
a superfluity.  Old  Gothic  is  sumptuous,  but  it  was  with  the  genius  of  the  time. 
Gothic  in  itself  was  intricate,  and  rivaled  nature  in  complexity.  It  was  the  expres- 
sion of  ages  when  no  literature  existed,  and  all  feeling  and  life  were  in  it.  Men  built 
their  hopes,  their  fears,  their  creed,  their  aspirations  into  it.  It  arose  like  an  exhala- 
tion of  prayer  and  praise  and  adoration,  and  flew  along  the  air  to  heaven.  It  aspired 
to  touch  the  sky.  Death,  immortality,  homily,  home,  life  and  all  it  bore,  signified,  or 
sought  were  written  in  stone. 

The  modern  feeling  for  truth  which  science  has  taught,  that  verity  which 
shames  pretense  and  affectation  and  show,  is  the  basis  of  contemporary  art,  a worthy 
motive.  We  are  moving  along  new  lines  to  see  and  to  prove  the  significance  of  things 
as  they  are,  the  wonder  of  life  and  being.  Farragut’s  statue  at  New  York  illustrates 
this.  We  want  the  man  as  he  lived,  not  posed  for  posterity,  a bust  done  to  the  life,  a 
native,  a portrait  figure;  notone  in  a hundred  can  invent  ornament  or  decoration 
that  will  please.  Do  not  let  them  try.  Like  a portrait  in  painting,  let  it  be  done 
with  truth,  sympathy,  mastery,  a certain  elevation  ; not  familiar,  not  excited,  not 
conscious,  but  with  dignity  and  repose,  naturalness  — but  with  life,  that  is  indis- 
pensable. We  need  nothing  m.ore  to  impress  us.  Nature  is  worth  all  feeble  ideal- 
isms, if  we  can  achieve  her.  They  are  cheap.  It  is  enough  such  a person  lived  and 
wrought  for  his  fellows,  the  monument  consecrates  his  memory  ; but  our  statues  in 
Boston  are  insipid.  The  life  has  not  been  achieved.  If  it  is  worth  to  perpetuate  in 
stone  or  bronze  the  memorable  men  who  have  stood  out  from  their  contemporaries 
and  deserved  this  memorial,  let  it  be  done  with  sentiment,  with  power.  It  is  at  any 
rate  a heroic  thing,  a statue  put  in  the  open  to  meet  all  eyes,  through  the  genera- 


tions,  salient  against  the  sky.  According  as  it  is  grand,  or  true,  or  impressive,  or 
vital,  will  it  mold  many  a growing  fancy  and  appeal  to  many  an  ardent  heart.  It 
should  be  done  with  a sense  of  this  requirement.  The  ancients  owed  much  to  such 
surroundings.  They  were  saluted  each  day  by  great  ancestors,  and  lived  in  an 
atmosphere  of  imagination.  Where  would  the  Roman  history  be  without  its  stimulus 
of  heroic  achievement?  We  have  lived  hitherto  in  an  atmosphere  of  bustle  and  com- 
monplace. Washington  is  our  only  impressive  city,  planned  on  a basis  not  commer- 
cial, heroic ; and  it  is  fortunate  that  it  is  so. 

In  the  kindred  art  of  portraiture,  a remarkable  instance  of  this  consummation  was 
presented  to  us  in  Mr.  Sargent’s  figure  of  a lady.  Here  was  mastery,  and  it  told  with 
singular  force  and  fire  and  made  other  attributes  superfluous  ; the  miracle  of  presence, 
of  spirit  was  before  us,  the  canvas  breathed,  the  likeness  and  movement  were 
ethereal. 

We  take  to  sculpture  by  a kind  of  instinct,  as  we  do  to  oratory.  Whether  we 
shall  be  great  in  it  remains  to  be  seen.  It  can  scarcely  be  said  to  be  a living  art. 
Music  is  that  and  a great  one,  greater  than  ever  before.  Perhaps  there  should  be, 
must  be,  prentice  work  before  the  master  comes.  Warner  is  subtle.  The  bust  in  the 
late  exhibition  at  the  art  museum  shows  it.  We  have  almost  alone  in  his  work  the 
promise  of  refined  classic  with  modern  feeling.  lerichan  at  Rome  did  something  of 
the  sort.  Mr.  French  has  done  very  sweet  things  in  fancy,  as  we  do  in  poetry.  Ability 
in  portrait  statues  our  sculptors  have  shown,  busts  of  fineness  and  character  produced. 
Ideal  and  historic  work  has  been  ambitious.  Ward  has  shown  a robust  mastery  with- 
out imagination;  Preston  Powers,  some  of  his  father’s  skill  in  treating  the  marble; 
Mead,  spirit ; Story,  poetry  ; Ball,  purity ; Dengler,  who  too  early  died,  a historic 
sense. 

That  passion,  basis  and  soul  of  inspiration,  which  has  been  lacking  in  poetry  has 
failed  us  in  the  kindred  and  heroic  arts  ; yet  it  is  likely  to  be  given  to  us  first  in  art 
rather  than  in  literature.  Our  profuse,  rich,  recent  country  will  be  artistic  before  it  is 
poetic.  To  poetry  and  its  quiet  contemplation  and  abstraction  and  feeling,  everything 
is  hostile,  as  mercantilism  is  to  imagination.  But  the  rich  republics  were  artistic — 
Genoa,  Florence,  Athens.  They  spent  more  than  aristocracies.  Never  was  so  much 
money  spent  as  at  Athens.  Aristocracies  are  selfish,  and  not  really  public-spirited. 
It  is  impossible  they  should  be.  We  have  no  rank  to  support,  no  foolish  court. 
Money  will  create  great  things  in  self-defense.  It  has  nothing  else  to  do. 


E.  A.  SiLSBEE 


AMERICAN  ART  JOURNALISM  . 

PUBLIC  interest  in  art  matters  increases  every  year 
throughout  the  country,  and  the  newspapers  and  peri- 
odicals become  sensible  of  a growing  demand  for  art 
information  from  their  readers,  they  endeavor  to  supply 
this  dem_and,  and  their  efforts,  it  seems  to  me,  are,  as  a 
rule,  based  on  such  an  erroneous  conception  of  the  true 
quality  of  this  demand  that  the  results  they  arrive  at, 
in  reality,  retard  rather  than  aid  the  progress  of  art 
among  us  as  a people.  Much  mutual  misunderstanding 
and  misapprehension  exist  and  seem  to  increase  every  day,  in  consequence  of  this 
fact,  between  art  writers  as  a class,  on  the  one  hand, — the  men  and  women  whose 
life  and  work  form  the  chief  materials  for  their  articles, — and  that  large  and  rapidly 
growing  class  of  our  citizens  who  are  interested  in  art  matters,  on  the  other. 

The  methods  pursued  by  the  newspapers  will  illustrate  this  fact.  The  art  season 
begins,  and  the  publisher  of  a journal  sends  word  to  the  managing  editor,  for 
example,  that  it  would  be  w'ell  to  pay  some  attention  to  art  matters,  as  advertisements 
of  dealers  are  coming  in  or  are  to  be  solicited,  and  there  are  frequent  requests  for 
articles  on  art  subjects.  The  managing  editor,  generally  an  individual  in  whose 
existence  art  is  an  unknown  quantity,  save  that  he  knows  there  is  such  a subject,  says, 
“ We  must  have  an  art  critic.”  That  is  the  first  idea  he  has.  To  him  the  word 
“ critic”  expresses  no  definite  conception,  save  that  of  a person  who  can  write  “stuff” 
unintelligible  to  him  but  demanded  by  a certain  portion  of  his  readers,  and  so  an 
“ art  critic”  is  installed  and  sends  in  his  views,  which  are  duly  printed.  Some  writer 
may  be  obtained  who  is  sufficiently  versed  in  the  subject  to  give  able  and  valuable 
criticisms  ; but  such  a one  is  rarely  found,  and,  in  the  majority  of  cases,  it  is  simply  a 
person,  having  some  smattering  of  art  knowledge  and  of  facile  pen,  who  wanders  over 


so  many  pages  of  paper  with  his  or  her  often  absurd  ideas  on  this  or  that  painting, 
etc.,  or  in  an  essay  on  some  general  art  subject. 

This  is  not  what  my  observ^ation  and  experience  tell  me  that  the  public  demand. 
They  want  art  information  rather  than  art  criticism,  and  at  present  are  really  not 
much  better  acquainted  with  the  subject  than  the  editor  spoken  of  above  ; but,  unlike 
him,  they  have  a taste  for  art  and  are  anxious  to  learn  more,  although  they  are  often 
in  sad  doubt  as  to  what  course  they  ought  to  pursue  to  secure  this  information,  and 
are  consequently  frequently  led  astray  by  designing  and  incompetent  teachers. 
Feeling  in  this  way,  they  will  throw  aside  a deeply  critical  article  or  elaborate  essay 
which  they  cannot  understand,  but  will  read  with  avidity  a good  column  of  art  news, 
fresh  and  accurate ; telling  what  the  artists  are  doing,  when  the  exhibitions  are  to 
open,  the  prospects  and  news  of  any  that  are  in  progress,  and  describing,  not  criticis- 
ing in  technical  terms,  the  pictures  or  other  works  of  art  in  this  or  that  gallery, 
studio  or  exhibition,  so  that  the  intending  visitor  may  know  what  he  is  going  to  see, 
and  he  who  has  visited  them  may  have  the  object  seen  recalled  to  memory. 

In  this  way  the  present  system  does  harm,  for  it  assumes  a wider  and  higher 
degree  of  art  culture  than  in  reality  exists,  and  just  so  much  retards  instead  of  aiding 
the  art  interest  and  education  of  our  citizens.  “ What  then,”  a reader  may  say,  “ are 
the  class,  if  it  is  a small  one,  who  can  understand  deeply  critical  or  technical  articles 
to  be  ignored,  and  are  the  few  able  critics  we  have  to  find  their  occupation  gone  ? ” 
By  no  means.  This  class  of  cultivated  and  educated  art  lovers  may  be  large  enough 
to  support  an  art  journal  which  shall  contain  only  articles  of  an  able  critical  nature 
from  well-known  pens.  There  are  one  or  two  art  periodicals  now  published  which 
could  be  easily  changed  into  a journal  of  this  kind,  and  when  any  remarkable  art 
work  or  exhibition  is  on  view,  even  the  daily  and  weekly  newspapers  could  give  an 
exhaustive  critical  article  upon  it,  which  would  amply  satisfy  the  demand  in  this 
respect. 

We  should  then  see  both  classes,  those  proficient  in  the  subject  and  those  just 
beginning  to  learn,  provided  for.  Take  the  New  York  National  Academy’s  annual 
exhibition  for  example,  and  if  the  method  I have  suggested  should  be  followed  the 
newspapers  would  treat  it  as  follows;  On  the  morning  of  the  opening,  the  “ Press 
View  ” having  taken  place  the  day  before,  the  dailies  would  contain  a pleasant 
descriptive  sketch  of  the  exhibition,  the  number  of  works,  etc.,  which  would  state  in 
general  terms  how  it  compared  with  previous  exhibitions,  etc.  There  would  be  no 
severe  condemnatory  or  highly  enthusiastic  expression  of  editorial  opinion  on  individ- 
ual works  or  upon  them  as  a whole,  which  are  generally  apt  to  be  unjust  when  made  the 
following  day,  from  the  fact  that  the  writers  have  not  really  had  proper  time  to  study 
the  pictures  criticised.  Two  or  three  days  after  the  opening  or  even  a week  afterward, 
a good  elaborate  critical  article  might  be  printed,  and  that  would  be  sufficient  to  meet 
the  requirements  of  the  artists  and  the  special  class  of  educated  readers,  but  every 
week  an  article  describing  the  works  further  and  giving  the  news  of  the  exhibition  might 
appear,  and  would  be  widely  read.  The  weekly  journals,  meanwhile,  could  follow  the 
same  plan,  with  the  modifications  required  by  their  less  frequent  publication  ; and  if 
we  had  a special  technical  art  journal,  it  could  give  one  or  two  critical  articles  from  the 
best  pens  obtainable.  If  this  plan  were  followed  I venture  to  assert  it  would  be  of 
vastly  more  benefit,  not  alone  to  the  Academy  Exhibition,  but  to  the  cause  of  art 


among  us  in  general,  than  the  many  different  ones  now  pursued,  of  which  the  favor- 
ite seem  to  be,  either  dismissing  the  whole  subject  in  one  hastily  written  condemnatory 
or  foolishly  praiseworthy  article;  a series  of  deep  technical  articles,  uninteresting  and 
almost  unintelligible  save  to  a few ; or  two  or  three  elaborate  essays  on  art  subjects  in 
general,  suggested  by  some  one  work  or  works. 

And  the  same  faults  now  exist  and  could  be  remedied  in  the  same  way,  nmtatis 
mutandis,  in  the  present  method  of  treating  all  art  works  which  are  worthy  of  attention 
and  description.  To  bring  about  this  result,  which  seems  to  be  so  desirable,  the 
impressing  of  an  evident  and  generally  forgotten  fact  on  the  minds  of  not  alone 
managing  editors,  but  of  the  public  as  well,  is  first  of  all  necessary,  and  that  is,  that  we 
are  too  young  a country  as  yet  to  have  reached  the  point  in  general  art  education  and 
intelligence  that  we  imagine  we  have.  Education  in  art  matters  is  as  yet  limited  to  a 
comparatively  small  class.  We  have  abundance  of  appreciation  and  latent  talent 
doubtless;  but  “ Ars  longa,  tempus  breve  est  ” is  not  as  hackneyed  a quotation  among 
the  enthusiastic  Americans  in  our  art  circles  as  it  ought  to  be.  Our  art  schools,  our 
exhibitions,  in  many  respects,  are  improving  every  year,  but  there  is  still  a great  lack  of 
proper  opportunities  for  art  education.  We  are  better  off  in  this  respect  in  New  York, 
Boston,  and  Philadelphia,  perhaps,  than  elsewhere,  but  we  have  still  room  for  larger 
schools  and  better  opportunities,  and  are,  as  a public,  still  in  the  infant  class.  So  we 
want  to  be  taught  our  primers,  to  be  led  gently  upwards,  to  be  given  abundance  of 
simple  facts,  pleasant  descriptions,  and  freed  from  technical  explanations.  When  we  can 
realize  this,  then  we  will  be  the  more  willing  to  abandon  high-sounding  ideas  and  names. 
We  will  be  willing  perhaps  to  abolish  the  term  “art  critic,’’  save  in  a few  instances 
where  wide  education,  good  appreciation,  and  more  than  ordinary  judicial  talents  entitle 
a writer  to  it;  and  the  managing  editor  need  no  longer  cast  about  to  find  his  “ critic,” 
but — securing  a person  who  has  a genuine  love  of  the  beautiful,  and  can  consequently, 
if  he  or  she  has  at  all  studied  the  subject  of  art,  write  intelligently  upon  it,  and  has 
facilities  in  acquiring  the  news  of  the  art  world — intrust  the  art  department  to  such  a 
one’s  hands,  assured  that  in  this  way  the  space  devoted  to  the  subject  will  be  read 
and  enjoyed  by  and  will  be  of  vastly  more  benefit  to  his  readers  than  in  any  other. 
We  cannot  have  too  many  art  writers  ; but  we  can  have  and  do  have  too  many 
so-called  critics,  whose  work  does  more  harm  than  good,  and  who  in  the  majority  of 
cases  have  as  little  right  to  their  appellation  as  a car-horse  would  have  to  that  of 
“ Iroquois,”  “ Eole,”  or  some  other  swift  fiier  of  the  turf 


James  B.  Townsend 


THE  PRESENT  CONDITIONS 


OF  AMERICAN  ART  THAT  ARE  TO  ITS  DETRIMENT,  AND  A POSSIBLE 

REMEDY. 


LOSE  scrutiny  of  the  art  affairs  of  the  United  States  dis- 
closes some  extraordinary  facts  not  apparent  to  those  who 
regard  art  progress  only  as  one  of  the  many  great  interests 
of  the  day,  to  which  some  attention  is  given  by  the  daily 
newspapers  and  which,  as  there  presented,  seems  to  be 
acquiring  new  importance  continually.  If  in  fact  our 
ideas  of  the  stability,  vitality,  and  merits  of  American 
art,  were  gathered  from  the  reports  in  the  journals,  there 
would  seem  to  be  little  to  deplore  and  abundant  ground 
for  satisfaction.  At  all  times  — excepting  possibly  the 
warmer  months  of  July  and  August  — the  papers  contain  an  almost  endless 
series  of  notes  as  to  the  movements  of  artists,  work  that  is  in  process  of  com- 
pletion at  the  studios,  pictures  at  the  galleries  of  the  dealers  and  the  art  asso- 
ciations, exhibitions  of  every  conceivable  kind,  new  schools,  societies,  and  clubs, 
illustrated  art  journals  that  are  enterprising  and  have  become  established  in  an 
incredibly  short  time,  exhibits  of  oils,  water-colors,  etchings  and  black  and  whites 
that  are  sent  to  foreign  galleries,  and  teaching  art  becoming  a recognized  pro- 
fession. Besides  this,  it  is  evident  that  within  a few  years  all  our  manufactures, 
all  our  articles  of  domestic  use,  our  dress  goods,  and  our  interior  decorations 
manifest  a perceptibly  higher  conception  of  good  taste  in  design  and  color.  The 
art  idea  has  taken  deep  root  in  popular  liking  and  worked  many  good  results. 
And  such  being  the  fact,  it  may  seem  absurd  to  state  that  art  is  to-day  making  com- 
paratively but  little  headway  in  our  country,  and  that  we  have  arrived  at  a point  where 
the  subject  of  a healthy  development  in  the  immediate  future  becomes  of  first  impor- 


tance.  With  this  statement  it  may  be  well  to  take  another  view  of  American  art  — 
one  that  will  be  found  less  gratifying.  All  the  newspapers  give  information  of  what 
is  being  done  in  various  parts  of  the  country.  The  signs  of  energetic  action  every- 
where are  indubitable  ; but  the  practical  experience  of  those  most  intimately  concerned 
with  the  permanency  and  prosperity  of  art  — the  class  that  wins  its  bread  from  art, 
the  hard-working  artist,  designer  and  draughtsman  — is  that,  notwithstanding  all 
the  noise  about  art,  he  personally  does  not  thrive,  his  purse  is  lean  and  life  a burden. 
He  knows  that  figures  show  that,  though  there  are  more  annual  exhibitions  each  year, 
the  aggregate  sales  of  American  pictures  are  diminishing  and  that  the  general  quality 
of  the  exhibitions  is  deterioratin.m  The  schools  of  art  are  thronged  with  men  and 
women  who,  excepting  a few  smatterers,  work  hard  with  the  one  end  in  view  of  becom- 
ing teachers,  and  when  half  qualified  they  begin  their  dreadful  task  of  disseminating 
erroneous  art  notions.  This  certainly  does  not  benefit  art ; and  with  all  the  schools 
and  cheap  lessons,  there  are  very  many  bitterly  disappointed  students  who,  after  spend- 
ing their  savings  for  poor  instruction,  discover  that  remunerative  art  work  is  far 
beyond  their  reach,  and  that,  while  public  interest  in  art  increases,  they  for  some 
mysterious  reason  do  not  prosper.  To  indicate  some  of  the  possible  causes  of  these 
curious  facts  — the  conjunction  of  public  interest  and  apathy,  of  worthy  effort  and 
meager  recompense  — is  the  purpose  primarily  of  this  article.  Besides  that,  it  is  to 
urge  the  advisability,  or  the  actual  necessity,  of  adopting  one  measure  that  has  had 
beneficent  effect  when  resorted  to  in  similar  straits,  the  subject  only  differing. 

If  the  art  movement  in  our  country  were  to  be  described  briefly,  I do  not 
know  of  any  more  adequate  way  of  doing  so  than  to  denominate  it  as  lacking  all 
cohesiveness.  It  is  disjointed,  without  aim  or  purpose,  ungoverned  by  standards  of 
any  kind,  hap-hazard  in  all  its  incidents,  and  continually  battling  with  itself  Every 
large  city  has  a local  organization  that  places  its  reputation  above  all  other  objects. 
In  the  months  of  September,  October,  and  November  of  this  year,  art  exhibitions  are 
to  be  held  at  Cincinnati,  Chicago,  Detroit,  Philadelphia,  Boston,  and  New  York. 
None  of  these  depends  exclusively  upon  local  contributions,  but  all  clamor  for  exhibits 
from  the  artists  of  the  whole  country.  The  natural  outcome  is  that  none  of  them  are 
as  good  as  they  should  be  nor  as  might  be  expected,  in  consideration  for  the  work 
devoted  to  them  by  art  committees  or  of  the  generous  amounts  of  money  subscribed 
by  liberal  patrons.  Conversation  with  any  artist  of  reputation  will  confirm  this  state- 
ment. He  will  admit  having  been  importuned  for  months  to  contribute  to  this  or 
that  display ; he  will  show  you  a dozen  or  more  polite  letters  from  the  same  com- 
mittee, which  he  does  not  even  take  the  trouble  to  answer.  In  sheer  desperation  at 
the  impossibility  of  exhibiting  in  all,  and  no  one  being  preeminently  good  or  an  honor 
to  appear  in,  he  finally  paints  nothing  new,  merely  dispatching  at  random,  here  and 
there,  some  hack  works  that  hang  on  his  hands  unsold.  The  autumn  exhibitions  ruin 
one  another;  their  multiplicity  disgusts  the  artists  ; the  money  spent  upon  them  does 
little  real  good. 

At  New  York  in  the  spring  the  situation  is  not  much  better.  Two  rival  societies 
compete  with  one  another,  and  do  not  materially  help  each  other,  while  an  exhibition 
is  held  at  the  Metropolitan  Museum  that  is  without  any  special  reason  for  existing, — 
except  as  a pleasant  thing  to  regard.  Representation  there  signifies  but  little.  In 
the  metropolis,  art  is  without  a standard  of  value. 


I could  easily  enlarge  upon  the  liberality  of  art  patronage.  It  is  something  ex- 
traordinary how  much  money  is  given  for  this  purpose,  and  how  scant  are  the  returns 
in  actual  progress  aside  from  the  erection  of  buildings.  The  management  and  endow- 
ment of  the  Pennsylvania  Museum  of  Fine  Arts  is  in  this  respect  truly  remarkable ; 
still  Philadelphia  cannot  point  to  much  that  she  has  accomplished  as  an  art  center. 
At  Chicago  and  at  Cincinnati  the  same  facts  arise,  though  Boston  seems  to  have  done 
more  practical  good.  In  no  place,  however,  are  the  results  commensurate  with  the 
expenditure. 

The  subject  of  art  instruction  is  almost  too  broad  for  me  to  touch  here,  and  it 
can  only  be  adverted  to  in  a few  words.  At  the  least  calculation  there  are  twenty 
thousand  art  students  in  the  United  States,  and  there  are  hardly  ten  thorough  schools. 
Still,  these  students  hope  to  live  by  art  work,  and  very  nearly  half,  or  more  than  half, 
expect  to  support  themselves  at  first  by  teaching.  The  impossibility  of  much  good 
coming  out  of  defective  training,  such  as  poor  schools  give,  is  manifest.  Some  of 
these  students,  it  is  true,  appreciate  that  there  is  a mechanic  side  to  some  art  work 
which  calls  expertness,  inventiveness,  and  experiment  into  play,  and,  to  which  some 
valuable  method  or  discovery  may  apply  that  is  convertible  into  income.  Of  this 
class  are  those  who  have  studiously  practiced  the  decorative  arts,  and  make  them 
profitable  by  secret  processes,  as,  for  example,  the  discovery  of  a new  glaze  for  pot- 
tery, which,  it  is  needless  to  say,  has  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  fine  art,  and  ranks 
as  any  mechanical  invention  might.  Teaching  such  things  is  legitimate  for  all  stu- 
dents, but  very  few  are  so  fortunate,  and  do  but  little  more  than  promulgate  as 
teachers  their  own  weakling  ideas  of  art  when  they  should  be  receiving  instruction  in 
a primary  class. 

Immaturity,  want  of  direction,  and  the  absence  of  all  good  standards  are  some  of 
the  first  obstacles  to  our  art  progress.  As  a possible  solution  of  these  many  difficulties, 
I have  suggested  in  other  publications  what  I would  propose  here  — the  holding  of  an 
art  convention  in  some  agreeable  place,  where  delegates  from  the  numerous  art  asso- 
ciations could  attend  to  arrange  a schedule  of  exhibition  dates,  to  promote  the 
establishment  of  some  large  annual  exhibition  of  primary  importance,  to  formulate 
the  practical  requirements  of  art  that  intending  donors  may  know  what  objects 
appeal  to  their  bounty,  to  discuss  current  questions  of  policy  such  as  the  tariff,  in 
short,  to  give  to  American  Art  some  body,  some  robustness,  some  cohesiveness,  none 
of  which  are  its  marks  to-day. 

Arthur  B.  Turnure 


JOURNALISM  AND  ART 


OST  of  my  readers  know  what  it  is  to  visit  a large  picture 
exhibition  — to  pass  in  review  wall  after  wall  and  room 
after  room  hung  close  with  canvases  good  and  bad, 
tedious,  exciting,  or  perplexing.  They  will,  I think, 
remember  the  experience  as  sometimes  delightful,  some- 
times depressing,  but  always  and  under  all  circumstances 
among  the  most  exhausting  our  human  lot  includes. 
They  will  recognize  that  there  is  a peculiar  form  of 
weariness,  like  none  other  in  kind  and  in  degree,  that  ap- 
plies to  all  haunters  of  foreign  galleries,  all  students  of 
current  art  at  home  — a weariness  which  affects  body  and  mind  alike,  and  the  body 
through  many  a different  set  of  nerves.  Of  course,  there  are  people  who  stroll  through 
a gallery  as  they  stroll  through  the  street,  and  examine  pictures  much  as  they  examine 
the  contents  of  the  shop-windows  they  may  pass.  But  I speak  of  those  who  really 
look  at  what  they  see. 

I wonder,  however,  how  many  even  among  these  last  can  realize  what  it  means 
to  “do”  a picture  exhibition  with  the  object  of  passing  a detailed  verdict  upon  its  con- 
tents ? It  is  tiring  enough,  perplexing  enough,  to  look  only  in  accordance  with  one’s 
own  tastes  and  fancies,  with  the  mere  desire  for  amusement  or  for  self-instruction. 
But  how  much  worse  to  look  in  accordance  with  one’s  obligations  to  the  reading 
public,  one’s  duty  to  one’s  self,  to  art  in  general,  and  to  some  hundreds  of  its  votaries  ! 
In  such  a case  the  observer,  after  getting  a general  idea  of  the  tenor  of  the  exhibition, 
must  pass  every  individual  canvas  in  review,  guided  by  no  personal  predilections,  still  less 
by  any  help  a catalogue  can  give.  The  most  familiar  painter  must  be  judged  afresh 
lest  some  new  development  present  itself ; the  most  unfamiliar  and  unattractive  must 
be  scrutinized  lest,  perchance,  the  new  genius  for  whom  we  wait  should  here  make  his 
first  faint  essay  toward  successful  doing.  Ej^es  and  brain  are  kept  busily  at  work 
over  the  most  diverse  things  of  the  most  varying  degrees  of  interest  — the  impression 


of  the  one  last  seen  often  subsisting  long  enough  to  militate  against  an  easy  judgment 
of  the  one  next  to  be  considered.  The  memory  must  be  charged  with  a hundred  dif- 
ferent decisions,  till  the  pen  can  give  them  form  and  permanence  ; and  a thousand 
other  things  must  be  recorded  mentally  for  one’s  own  instruction  or  for  use  on  some 
future  possible  occasion.  Nothing  must  be  overlooked,  nothing  must  be  misjudged, 
no  slightest  thing  must  be  forgotten.  A hard  task,  you  will  say,  under  the  best  con- 
ditions— with  plenty  of  time  and  quiet  at  disposal,  with  repeated  visits  and  long 
reflection  possible  ere  one’s  final  judgment  need  be  given.  But  how  when  the  critic 
is  a journalist  — when  his  audience  cannot  wait  for  patient  judgment  and  cool  expo- 
sition, but  must  be  served  next  morning  with  a long  detailed  report  ? How  when 
there  is  but  an  afternoon  hour  or  two  in  which  to  see  hundreds  of  new  canvases,  an 
evening  hour  or  two  in  which  the  exhausted  brain  must  formulate  its  swiftly-made 
decisions  ? The  mere  receiving  of  vague  impressions  costs  the  average  picture-lover 
dear ; but  as  I have  said,  all  the  impressions  in  the  world  will  serve  the  critic  little 
unless  he  can  go  further  and  instantly  translate  them  into  definite  ideas,  with  valid 
reasons  to  support  them.  Supple  indeed  must  be  the  mind,  ready  the  pen,  well  fur- 
nished with  the  fundamentals  of  art-criticism  the  brain,  that  can  always  do  this  work 
as  it  should  be  done ; for  the  journalist  cannot,  like  other  writers,  chose  his  text, 
can  never  know  what  kind  of  task  will  be  next  in  order.  Even  outside  the  general 
exhibitions,  he  cannot  confine  himself  to  such  works  as  appeal  to  his  sympathies  or  lie 
within  the  range  of  his  especial  studies.  The  artists  of  all  countries  must  be  familiar 
to  him  in  their  development  and  the  stages  of  its  progress,  their  chief  works  known 
by  name  and  reputation — for  in  this  country,  at  least,  where  the  importation  5f  foreign 
works  is  so  unceasing,  it  is  only  half  his  task  to  comment  on  the  productions  of  his 
countrymen,  good,  bad,  or  to  him  indifferent.  He  must  see  all  things  and  must  judge 
all  at  an  instant’s  notice,  with  rarely  the  chance  to  prepare  himself  beforehand  — to 
read  up  so  much  as  a biographical  detail  or  a necessary  date. 

These  are  some  of  the  difficulties  with  which  the  journalist  has  to  deal,  which 
should  be  remembered  in  passing  judgment  on  his  work ; but  his  peculiar  lot 
has  its  charms  as  well  — charms  which  to  some  of  us  far  outweigh  all  that  is 
fatiguing  or  annoying.  The  very  rapidity  of  production  that  is  required,  while  it 
hampers  him  in  one  way,  inspires  him  in  another.  He  must  write  at  once  — that 
means  often  while  he  is  tired,  perhaps  uncertain,  but  also  while  he  is  interested,  while 
his  first  vivid  impressions  have  not  had  time  to  grow  pale  and  unprovocative  of  effort. 
What  he  writes  one  day  he  reads  the  next,  with  a feeling  of  interest  much  greater  than 
had  his  text  lain  for  weeks  or  months  in  an  editor’s  desk,  to  come  before  him  at  last 
almost  like  the  work  of  another.  The  rapid  change  of  subject,  the  swift  dismissal  of 
one  theme  and  swift  succession  of  another,  may  bewilder  him  at  first,  but  should 
prove  tonic  and  deligiitful  in  the  end.  The  flexibility  of  his  work  prompts  to  keen 
interest  in  all  things  great  and  small.  Nothing  need  be  too  trivial  a text  to  serve  the 
journalist  who  thinks  he  can  speak  a vital  word  from  the  stand-point  it  affords.  The 
all-embracing  columns  of  the  daily  press  give  him  a chance  to  say  his  say  — be  it 
brief  or  long,  be  it  serious  or  sportive  — such  as  he  can  never  get  through  any  other 
medium.  It  is  only  important  subjects,  only  serious,  accomplished  works,  only 
themes  of  more  than  transient  interest,  that  can  be  discussed  in  the  slower,  statelier 
pages  of  book  or  monthly  magazine.  But  valuable  engines  of  influence  as  are  these 


when  rightly  used,  it  is  certain  that  the  daily  press,  with  its  more  constant  speech,  its 
wider  range,  and  its  more  general  audience,  may  be  made  still  more  useful  in  the 
interests  of  art.  Its  work  is  so  direct,  so  immediate,  so  easily  turned  to  any  point 
and  to  any  purpose,  that  those  who,  like  myself,  have  been  fortunate  enough  to  serve 
under  a trusting  and  indulgent  “ chief,”  may  be  pardoned  if,  when  parting  with  our 
newspaper,  we  feel  as  though  we  had  given  up  our  best  weapon,  our  most  interesting 
and,  with  all  its  drawbacks,  often  our  most  thankful  task. 

But  to  use  such  opportunities  of  service  with  force  and  with  discretion  is  no  easy 
thing.  The  work  of  the  journalist,  like  the  conditions  under  which  it  must  be  done, 
is  peculiar  in  its  character.  He  writes  for  the  most  diverse  of  readers,  for  all  sorts  and 
conditions  of  men  — from  the  artist  who  seeks  the  mention  of  his  own  name,  down  to 
the  subscriber  whose  eye  would  never  light,  except  by  chance,  upon  the  column  given 
to  art.  If  the  critic  is  in  earnest  with  his  work,  if  he -desires  something  more  than 
to  butter  his  own  bread  or  attract  attention  to  his  own  person  and  his  own  crotchets, 
he  will  strive  to  put  in  a word  for  each  and  all  of  these  — to  write  so  as  to  satisfy  the 
few  real  judges  who  will  read  his  chapter,  and  so  as  to  instruct  the  most  careless 
portion  of  his  public.  And  in  journalistic  writing,  moreover,  no  instruction  can  be 
given  didactically  or  bluntly.  It  must  be  wrapped  in  a pleasant,  easy  style ; must  be 
presented  casually  as  it  were  — in  allusions,  in  brief  asides.  It  must  be  art  education 
made  easy  for  the  masses,  who  may  be  won,  but  not  coerced,  into  following  the  lesson. 
It  is  a great  as  well  as  a delicate  task  the  journalistic  critic  sets  before  himself  If 
our  artists  of  to-day  have  a noble  work  to  do  in  building  up  what  we  hope  will  grow 
to  be  a truly  vital  and  a truly  national  art,  if  our  essayists  and  book-makers  can 
supplement  their  efforts  by  teaching  thoroughly  those  who  seriously  wish  to  learn, 
such  endeavors,  to  be  really  fruitful,  must  be  supplemented  by  an  earnest  and  intelli- 
gent journalism,  which  will  turn  the  most  potent  educational  force  of  this  our  century 
into  a channel  running  parallel  with  theirs,  the  channel  which  alone  can  bring  the 
water  of  life  to  the  lips  of  the  vast  and,  alas  ! indifferent  public. 

I cannot  here,  of  course,  go  into  the  details  of  what  a journalist’s  work  should  be, 
but  upon  one  important  point  I must  at  least  briefly  touch.  It  is  important  to  every 
writer  on  art  of  whatever  kind,  but  most  important  to  him  who  writes  for  the  daily 
press,  since  his  audience  is  of  all  others  the  most  ignorant  and  the  least  likely  to  listen 
to  any  words  but  his,  to  supplement  his  lessons  by  those  of  other  sorts.  It  is  there- 
fore a double  necessity,  if  his  work  is  to  be  rightly  influential,  that  he  should 
always  base  and  refer  his  decisions  to  the  deepest  and  most  fundamental  truths  of 
art.  No  matter  how  slight  the  occasion,  how  transitory  the  theme,  how  brief  the 
treatment,  the  import  of  his  words  should  never  end  with  the  mere  matter  beneath 
his  pen.  It  is  never  enough  to  say  that  “ this  is  good  and  that  is  bad.”  He  must 
always  say  why  with  the  greatest  definiteness  and  the  greatest  clearness,  and  explain 
himself  in  such  a way  that  he  will  not  only  give  his  readers  a key  which  will  guide 
them  in  presence  of  the  picture  of  to-day,  but  the  memory  of  which  will  help  them 
before  the  picture  of  to-morrow.  His  mind  must  be  stored  with  the  knowledge  of 
all  that  has  been  done  in  other  days  by  other  men,  and  with  much  that  the  great  critics 
of  the  world  have  said,  so  his  illustrations  and  comparisons  may  be  ready  and  suggest- 
ive. He  must  write  so  that  those  who  follow  his  teaching  will  be  not  only  instructed 
in  what  passes  beneath  their  eyes,  but  instructed  in  art — so  that  right  principles  will 


be  impressed  upon  their  minds  and  right  aims  explained  to  them  ; so  that  their 
knowledge  of  historical  developments  and  time-honored  names  will  grow  with  their 
knowledge  of  the  men  who  are  working  in  their  midst.  He  must,  I say  — perhaps  I 
might  better  write  he  should ; for  it  is  a tremendous  task  he  has  undertaken,  one  in 
which  the  clearest  brain,  the  subtilest  pen,  the  widest  knowledge,  would  have  more 
than  enough  to  do.  But  this  is  the  aim  he  should  place  before  himself ; and  only  the 
existence  of  this  aim,  together  with  a constant  effort  to  render  himself  more  capable  of 
its  realization,  can  excuse  the  man  who  dares  to  set  himself  up  as  teacher  in  so  wide 
a field  and  before  so  large  an  audience. 

M.  G.  VAN  Rensselaer 


WATER  COLOR  PAINTING: 


POSITION  AMONG  THE  FINE  ARTS,  AS  ESTABLISHED 
BY  ITS  CAREER  AND  DEVELOPMENT. 


N LESS  than  a single  century  the  modern  aquarelle 
school  has  grown  from  infancy  to  the  full  stature  of  ma- 
turity, and  has  established  itself  firmly  and  permanently 
in  the  affections  of  artists  and  art  connoisseurs,  until 
now,  with  oil-painting,  water-color  is  recognized  as  one 
of  the  two  great  graphic  arts.  This  result  is  the  more 
remarkable  in  view  of  the  fact  that  oil-painting,  fully 
V developed  as  it  is  practiced  to-day,  had  the  start  by 

nearly  four  centuries  and  the  prestige  of  use  by  the  greatest  masters  that  the 
world  has  ever  known  or  is  likely  to  know  again,  while  water-color,  though  able  to 
boast  of  a greater  antiquity,  had  lagged  behind  in  its  development  and  progress.  In 
the  exceptional  art  activity  which  followed  the  Renaissance,  when,  next  to  war  and 
side  by  side  with  religion,  art  occupied  the  attention  and  engaged  the  powers  of  the 
civilized  world,  this  single  art  was  almost  alone  neglected. 

If,  however,  there  is  any  argument  to  be  drawn  from  antiquity  of  usage,  it 
rests  with  water- color  painting,  for  we  find  that  the  use  of  pigments  tempered  with 
water,  long  antedated  the  knowledge  of  oil-painting,  the  decorated  tombs  and  public 
buildings  of  Egypt,  the  early  Greek  paintings,  the  Pompeiian  frescoes,  the  decorated 
catacombs  of  Rome,  the  works  of  the  earliest  mediaeval  painters,  and  the  cartoons 
of  Raphael,  all  giving  conclusive  evidence  of  this.  But  tempera,  fresco,  and  encaus- 
tic painting  was  far  removed  from  modern  water-color,  in  that  it  was  based  entirely 
upon  solid,  opaque  pigments  instead  of  transparent  washes.  At  the  same  time  artists, 
seriously  feeling  the  limitations  and  imperfections  of  the  material  with  which  they 
were  forced  to  work,  and  constantly  experimenting  in  the  hope  of  attaining  to  some- 
thing better,  naturally  enough  held  that  their  opaque  pigments  were  the  prime  essen- 


tials,  and  must  be  retained  as  the  only  true  basis  from  which  to  develop  a new  color 
medium.  Thus,  oil-painting  seems  to  have  been  evolved  in  a branching  off  in  one 
direction  from  these  older  processes  by  a change  of  diluent,  just  as  later  on  water- 
color  was  evolved  in  another  direction  by  a change  in  the  character  of  the  pigments. 
What  wonder  that  the  new  art,  so  full,  so  grand,  so  satisfying  in  all  its  results,  should 
engross  the  attention  of  artists  and  public,  to  the  exclusion  for  the  time  being  of 
all  thoughts  of  anything  better,  or  even  different?  The  richness,  strength,  and  beauty 
of  its  work  captivated  all  minds  and  hearts,  and  it  ruled  supreme. 

Still  the  world  was  not  without  those  in  art  who  were  feeling  in  other  directions, 
and  the  work  of  the  mediaeval  illuminators  and  the  English  miniature  painters  came 
nearer  to  modern  water-color  than  anything  which  had  preceded  it.  A few  of  the 
early  Italian  and  German  painters,  and  the  miniature  painters  even,  began  to  use 
transparent  colors  to  a slight  extent.  All  these  practices  were  significant  precursors 
of  modern  water-color  painting,  but  do  not  seem  to  have  been  its  actual  progenitors 
except  as  a familiarity  with  them  may  have  more  or  less  affected  the  early  water- 
colorists. Between  these  works  and  the  stained  drawings  of  the  English  artists  of  the 
last  century,  there  is  no  appreciable  connection,  and  the  line  of  descent  has  been  lost, 
if,  indeed,  it  ever  existed.  Stained  drawing,  however,  is  the  proven  legitimate  parent 
of  water-color ; from  one  to  the  other  was  merely  an  advance  in  color.  The  early 
practice  of  laying  in  the  whole  picture  in  monochrome,  generally  Indian  ink,  over 
which  the  local  tints  were  placed,  gave  way  rapidly  to  the  present  method,  where  the 
monochrome  is  discarded,  and  the  true  local  color  in  shadows,  tints,  half  tints,  and  all 
gradations,  is  put  directly  upon  the  clear  paper,  each  object  being  laid  in  in  its  own 
true  color,  shaded  off  in  individual  tints  in  their  just  relations  to  each  other. 

The  prominent  features  of  the  new  school  were  a true  feeling  for  artistic  composi- 
tion, a superior  brilliancy  and  purity  of  tint,  an  effective  power  in  expressing  the 
transparency  of  the  atmosphere,  and  a rare  delicacy  and  grace  in  rendering  distant 
landscape,  ocean,  or  sky.  These  have  continued  to  be  the  characteristies  of  water- 
color  down  to  the  present  day,  and  so  far  give  it  a marked  advantage  over  oil-painting. 
Without  vaunting  the  one  art  at  all  above  the  other,  it  is  undeniable  that  there  are 
qualities  in  either  that  are  absent  from  the  other,  and  results  obtainable  in  the  one 
that  are  impossible  of  realization  by  its  rival.  There  the  controversy  respecting  the 
relative  value  of  the  two  must  end.  Eor  richness  of  tone,  boldness  and  vigor  of 
expression,  and  the  fullest  and  most  powerful  renditions  of  character  and  of  various 
phases  of  nature  we  must  continue  to  look  to  oil-painting  ; but  for  brilliancy,  subtlety 
of  feeling  for  the  more  delicate  suggestions  in  nature  and  for  the  imagination  of  the 
artist,  and  fine  atmospheric  effects,  water-color  must  ever  remain  preeminent. 

A strongly  controverted  point  in  regard  to  water-color  is  that  of  the  use  of 
opaque  pigments.  The  practice  has  the  support  of  precedent,  for  nearly  all  the  early 
water- colorists  used  Chinese  white,  and  even  other  opaque  colors.  Since  the  essential 
characteristics  of  water-color  are  brilliancy,  purity  of  tone,  and  clearness  of  atmospheric 
effects,  it  was  but  natural  that  these  points  should  be  particularly  studied,  and  experi- 
ments made  in  methods  of  intensifying  them.  The  use  of  Chinese  white  was  found  to 
be  very  effective  in  securing  brilliancy,  contrast,  and  variety,  and  in  sharply  accenting 
the  lights  in  a picture,  and  so  came  into  pretty  general  use.  Even  Turner,  though  at  first 
opposed  to  it,  afterward  adopted  it,  though  he  always  used  it  with  a great  deal  of  moder- 


ation  and  care,  and  took  particular  pains  to  conceal  the  practice  as  much  as  possible. 
Three  kinds  of  water-color  are  now  generally  recognized  and  accepted — the  transparent, 
the  opaque,  and  a third  in  which  transparent,  semi-transparent,  and  opaque  colors  are 
used  freely  in  combination.  The  two  first  named  are  accepted  without  much  hesita- 
tion, but  the  latter  is  compelled  to  face  a great  deal  of  opposition  and  intolerance. 
There  seems  to  be  slight  justice  in  this,  for  no  practice  in  art  should  be  per  se  con- 
demned; it  should  be  judged  solely  by  its  results,  and  in  this  case  some  of  the  happiest 
results  accrue  from  the  combined  use  of  opaque  and  transparent  colors.  Still,  the 
practice  is  very  liable  to  grave  abuse,  inasmuch  as  it  gives  certain  superficial  effect- 
iveness with  the  minimum  of  labor.  It  saves  a great  deal  of  time  that  would  other- 
wise be  expended  in  carefully  wiping  out  or  scraping  for  lights,  and  is  therefore  a 
temptation  to  the  lazy  artist  or  one  who  is  pressed  for  time.  Used  honestly  and  in 
moderation,  it  is  perfectly  legitimate  and  even  desirable  ; but  care  must  be  taken 
lest  what  should  be  a slave  shall  not  become  the  master.  The  artist  must  know,  like 
Turner,  when  to  leave  off,  and  should  stop  there.  Many  of  the  leading  English  artists 
of  to-day  put  on  opaque  pigments  to  place  the  lights  and  then  scrape  down  to  the 
paper  — a laborious  task,  but  well  worth  while.  Our  American  artists  are  more  in- 
clined to  the  use  of  opaque  in  connection  with  transparent  color  than  are  their  English 
brethren,  and  not  always  with  the  best  results. 

The  criticism  upon  water-color  is  frequently  made  that  it  is  not  as  serious  or  as 
durable  as  work  in  oil.  Nothing  could  be  further  from  the  truth.  As  regards  serious- 
ness, let  Hamerton  speak.  He  says  ; 

“The  dexterity  and  knowledge  required  for  work  of  this  kind  are  such  that, 
instead  of  being  an  easy  art,  as  many  people  imagine,  water-color  is  really  a very  dif- 
ficult one,  for  nobody  can  have  the  certainty  of  hand  that  it  requires  until  he  has 
practiced  it  long  and  assiduously,  with  a complete  analytical  knowledge  of  the  natural 
forms  and  effects  to  be  interpreted.  There  may  be  some  temerity  in  deciding  that  one 
art  is  easier  than  another, — I am  sure  that  the  popular  opinion  is  rash  and  wrong 
about  the  supposed  facility  of  water-color,  and  I do  not  wish  to  fall  into  a similar  error 
about  another  art, — but  if  both  water-color  and  oil-painting  are  to  be  done  well,  I 
believe  that  oil  is  the  easier  of  the  two.’’ 

That  is  undoubtedly  the  general  experience  of  artists  who  have  worked  in  both 
mediums.  After  all,  the  question  of  the  relative  merit  of  the  two  arts  is  best  settled 
by  considering  what  it  is  that  we  most  desire  in  a picture.  Is  it  not  a transcript  of 
nature  vivified  by  the  imagination  of  the  artist,  the  harmonious  association  of  realism 
and  idealism  ? The  work  that  expresses  this  to  the  fullest  extent  and  most  faithfully 
is  the  best  work,  no  matter  in  what  medium  or  by  what  method  it  is  produced.  Every 
art  has  its  peculiar  field  wherein,  by  reason  of  certain  excellencies,  it  stands  unap- 
proachable ; and  the  award  of  seriousness  and  importance  cannot  be  given  to  any 
single  one,  to  the  exclusion  of  all  others.  It  is  a question  of  personality  entirely,  and 
not  at  all  of  materials.  If  an  artist  feels  that  he  can  accomplish  better  results  by 
working  in  water-color  than  in  oil,  that  work  is  what  the  world  needs  from  him,  and  it 
is  entitled  to  its  just  meed  of  praise  as  being  more  serious,  more  important,  and  more 
valuable  than  as  though  the  artist  had  unwisely  allowed  himself  to  be  ♦:empted  into  the 
use  of  oil.  There  is  no  good  reason  why  a landscape  in  oil  should  sell  for  five  hun- 


dred  dollars,  while  a landscape  in  water-color  hanging  next  to  it,  equally  if  not  more 
meritorious,  judged  by  the  best  standards  of  art,  goes  begging  for  half  that  sum.  Cer- 
tainly, the  water-color  represents  as  much  work,  as  much  imagination,  as  much  strong 
personality,  and  as  much  keen  artistic  sense  as  though  it  had  been  done  in  oil ; and  are 
not  those  qualities  what  we  want  to  buy,  rather  than  so  much  oil  and  opaque  colors, 
and  so  many  square  inches  of  canvas  ? It  is  about  time  that  we  overcame  this  absurd 
fetich-like -worship,  alike  of  a something  or  a nothing,  simply  because  it  is  a “ real  oil- 
painting.” 

In  the  matter  of  durability,  the  argument  is  strongly  with  water-color.  Water- 
mixed  paints  are  the  purest  colors  obtainable,  and  are  the  least  liable  to  chemical 
change  if  properly  protected.  In  this  respect  they  have  a decided  advantage  over  oil 
pigments,  which  too  often  contain  in  themselves  the  elements  of. their  own  obscura- 
tion. The  works  of  the  old  masters  have  undergone  changes,  though  whether  that 
which  we  affect  to  call  “the  ripening  process”  is  to  be  altogether  deplored  or  not, 
there  is  here  no  space  to  consider.  But,  in  many  instances,  it  is  quite  apparent  that 
the  blackening  and  other  discolorations  and  the  cracking  of  oil  paintings  effectually 
ruins  them.  Even  in  modern  times  we  see  the  perishable  qualities  of  oil  paintings. 
Many  of  Millet’s  works  are  already  turning  black,  and  what  Munkacsy’s  pictures, 
heavily  loaded  with  bitumen,  will  be  in  another  generation,  no  one  need  predict. 
Here,  at  home,  quite  recently,  Schoff’s  engraving  of  Hunt’s  “ Bathers  ” — so  faithful 
to  the  original  as  it  now  is,  that  the  engraver  seems  almost  to  have  been  lost  in  the 
artist  — revealed  to  the  startled  eyes  of  those  who  were  familiar  with  the  painting 
when  it  first  appeared,  how  its  shadows  are  deepening  and  the  whole  canvas  darken- 
ing. Turn  an  oil  painting  to  the  wall  for  a few  weeks  and  it  will  change  in  color;  let 
it  be  exposed  to  the  direct  rays  of  the  sun  for  a length  of  time,  and  it  will  bleach. 
All  mundane  things  are  perishable,  but  a well-painted  water-color  protected  by  a glass 
from  the  dangerous  gases  and  from  dirt,  and  kept  from  the  sun  and  the  damp,  will 
live  as  long  if  not  outlast  any  oil  painting.  Certainly  it  will  retain  its  original  char- 
acter and  its  pristine  freshness  of  color  much  longer. 

It  would  not  be  easy  to  exaggerate  the  value  of  water-color  for  sketching  pur- 
poses. No  other  medium  lends  itself  so  readily  and  happily  to  the  fresh  and  free 
expression  of  the  fleeting  impressions  of  the  moment.  There  seems  to  be  a natural 
affinity  between  it  and  certain  phases  of  nature.  Cloud  and  water  effects,  in  particular, 
always  so  rapidly  changing  and  elusive,  can  hardly  be  caught  except  by  water-color, 
which  thus  becomes  all  important  to  the  painter  who  seeks  the  most  exquisite  refine- 
ment of  truth,  while  the  readiness  with  which  it  responds  to  the  most  subtle  and  delicate 
feelings  and  sentiment  of  the  artist,  gives  it  a rare  intellectual  quality. 

That  water-color  painting  has  attained  to  its  fullest  possible  development  is 
probably  true.  This  is  not  necessarily  to  say  that  the  finest  water-color  paintings 
that  ever  can  be  done  are  those  of  the  past,  though  one  is  half  impelled  to  qualify 
this  qualification,  with  the  thought  of  Turner,  the  Raphael  of  water-color,  in  mind. 
But  it  is  certain  that  the  province  of  water-color  is  well  defined,  its  materials  and 
methods  firmly  established,  and  its  possibilities  and  limitations  well  marked.  There 
does  not  seem  to  be  anything  essentially  new  for  it  to  take  hold  upon  in  the  future, 
and  whatever  excellence  it  attains  to  hereafter  must  be,  at  the  best,  in  following  out 
and  amplifying  present  practices. 


It  is  curious  and  important  to  notice  in  this  connection  that  nearly,  if  not  all  the 
methods  of  to-day,  were  in  use  by  the  earliest  water-colorists.  They  seemed,  as  if  by 
instinct,  to  strike  the  whole  gamut  of  the  art  at  once;  and  as  they  made  it,  so  it  prac- 
tically stands  to-day.  The  period  of  their  experimenting  was  very  brief  Papers 
and  pigments  were  at  once  improved  to  meet  their  necessities,  and  they  invented  such 
practices  as  taking  out  color  for  high  lights,  'washing,  streaming,  dragging  for  texture, 
grinding  pigments  in  honey,  stippling,  brown  hatching  over  solid  color,  putting  in 
shadows  in  red  chalk,  the  use  of  tinted  paper,  and  many  others.  The  theory  that 
legitimate  water-color  painting  means  the  exclusive  use  of  transparent  color  on  white 
paper  never  prevailed  with  them.  They  were  eclectic  in  the  best  and  broadest  sense, 
and  such  the  art  that  they  cultivated  and  built  up  has  remained  ever  since. 

The  English  water-color  school  still  continues  to  lead  the  world.  Its  artists  fol- 
low closely,  but  by  no  means  slavishly,  the  traditions  of  the  elders,  and  accuracy  of 
drawing,  beauty  of  composition,  and  faithfulness  and  delicacy  of  color,  with  perhaps  a 
tendency  to  over-elaboration  of  details  are  the  characteristics  of  their  work.  Water- 
color  on  the  Continent,  although  practiced  by  many  great  men,  has  never  attained 
any  notable  degree  of  excellence.  Leaving  out  of  consideration  the  work  of  a few 
masters,  whose  names  will  readily  occur  to  the  reader,  the  rest  is  hard  and  raw  in 
color,  inclined  to  meretricious  showiness,  loose  in  drawing,  and  without  much  delicacy 
or  refinement.  The  Dutch  are,  of  late,  however,  showing  some  very  admirable  work. 
Here,  in  this  country,  the  comparatively  young  school  of  water-color  has  already 
done  some  creditable  work.  It  is  not  thoroughly  trained,  nor  quite  thoroughly  in 
earnest.  It  is,  however,  pervaded  by  an  original  spirit,  is  healthful  in  its  tone  and  in 
its  indications,  and  more  independent  of  precedents  and  theories  than  would  naturally 
be  expected.  In  this  is  its  surest  sign  of  promise  and  the  assurance  of  its  future 
greatness.  As  yet,  most  of  our  artists  only  indulge  in  water-color  as  a recreation,  or  a 
rest  from  what  they  consider  their  more  serious  work.  Comparatively  few  men  are 
giving  themselves  up  unreservedly  and  earnestly  to  water-color  painting  alone,  but  it 
is  significant  to  notice  that  from  among  these  are  coming  our  best  American  water- 
colorists. We  need  many  more  such,  and  in  them  is  the  hope  of  the  American 
water-color  school  of  the  future. 

Lyman  H.  Weeks 


AMERICAN  FLOWER-PAINTERS 


■LOWER-PAINTING  belongs  to  the  decorative  side  of 
art,  as  floral  subjects  themselves  belong  to  the  deco- 
rative side  of  nature  ; and  remembering  this,  it  is  easy 
to  understand  why  so  few  paintings  of  flower-subjects 
are  altogether  satisfactory,  or  come  within  the  range  of 
thoroughly  good  art. 

The  knowledge  of  decorative  effect  is  not  by  any 
means  one  of  the  early  things  in  a painter’s  education, 
unless,  indeed,  his  eye  has  been  trained  in  one  of  the 
world’s  greatest  schools  of  art,  and  he  has  learned  to  look 
for  this  quality  in  all  painting.  It  follows,  then,  that  our  best  flower-painters  are  not 
alone,  or  even  chiefly,  flower-painters,  but  are  found  among  those  whose  breadth  of 
study  and  large. experience  of  all  subjects  include  the  knowledge  and  practice  of  deco- 
rative effect. 

Successful  treatment  of  flower-subjects  demands,  first  of  all,  beauty  and  harmony 
of  color  ; after  which  come  picturesque  arrangement  of  form,  massing  of  light  and 
shadow,  and  free  and  able  rendering  of  all  the  transitions  which  lie  between  the 
splendor  of  color  in  light  and  the  same  splendor  toned  by  positive  shadow.  The 
painter  who  cannot  paint  a group  of  flowers  without  unconsciously  applying  to  it  the 
knowledge  gained  in  assiduous  life-study,  of  composition,  general  harmony  of  tone, 
distribution  of  light  and  shadow,  and  picturesque  effect,  will  give,  in  a few  masterly 
touches,  more  of  the  meaning  and  capacity  of  real  flower-beauty  than  the  most  pains- 
taking portraiture  can  interpret  without  that  knowledge.  One  gives  facts,  and  the 
other  the  result  or  effect  of  facts.  The  value  and  interest  of  the  occasional  flow'er- 
studies  of  such  painters  as  William  M.  Chase,  Lafarge,  Porter,  Wier,  the  Misses 
Greatorex,  Miss  Bartol,  and  others,  is  due  to  the  unconscious  knowledge  which  has 
assimilated  facts  of  nature  and  changed  them  into  laws  of  art.  Even  when  these 
studies  are  incomplete  in  detail,  there  is  a sense  of  completeness  in  the  whole  which 
almost  persuades  one  that  detail  is  a defect  rather  than  a merit.  They  may  be  mere 
patches  and  blotches  of  beautiful  color  when  near  at  hand  — bits  of  gray,  and  green. 


and  rose,  and  flame-color ; but  when  in  proper  or  favorable  light  and  place,  they 
translate  themselves  to  one’s  inner  sense  as  essence  and  element  of  flower-life. 

This  is  especially  true  of  flower-studies  as  accessions  by  Mr.  Chase.  The  beauty 
of  them  is  hardly  more  a delight  than  the  sense  of  skill  in  handling.  Patches  of 
yellow  and  blue,  laid  upon  the  canvas  with  a palette-knife,  persuade  one  presently 
that  they  are  veritable  daffodils  leaning  from  an  old,  blue  Indian  jar;  or  careless- 
looking  smears  of  lake  and  vermilion,  dragged  into  a paste  of  grays  and  greens,  will 
presently  flame  into  summer  roses  or  azalias,  with  their  setting  of  rose-tinted  green. 
The  experienced  eye  of  the  painter  notes  only  the  points  of  color  and  form  which  are 
emphasized,  leaving  the  imagination  to  fill  the  spaces  of  fine  but  ineffective  detail. 
The  things  which  the  flower-subjects  say  most  strongly  are  written  down  for  you  to 
read,  and  all  the  beautiful  mystery  of  nature  follows  to  your  awakened  imagination. 

Something  of  this  quality  of  selection  and  suggestion  is  to  be  found  in  the  water- 
colors  of  the  Misses  Katherine  and  Ellen  Greatorex.  They  are  admirable  in  method, 
and  possess  also,  and  almost  invariably,  that  peculiar  beauty  of  color  which  is  a thing 
much  more  of  feeling  than  of  method.  This  feeling  for  color  has  adapted  itself  most 
kindly  to  the  French  habit  of  using  pure  and  unmixed  tints  in  flower-painting — tints 
which  flow  into  each  other  only  at  point  of  meeting,  and  result  in  a brilliancy  and 
force  which  is  positively  exhilarating.  To  come  across  one  of  these  sheets  of  color, 
in  the  midst  of  the  depressing  monotony  of  half-tints  without  force  or  meaning 
which  one  sometimes  finds  in  a picture-gallery,  is  like  a trumpet-call  to  the  tired 
attention. 

The  flower-studies  of  Mr.  Alden  Wier  appeal  to  the  interest  and  challenge  the 
admiration  upon  very  different  ground.  They  are  characterized  by  peculiar  delicacy 
both  of  texture  and  color  ; especially  of  color  in  shadow.  Each  leaf  has  the  grained 
look  which  gives  such  a sense  of  intricate  and  fragrant  circulation  in  the  flower  ; an 
effect  which  is  not  the  result  of  laborious  manipulation,  but  rather  of  a certain  skill  or 
trick  of  handling.  There  seems  to  be  an  unconscious  selection  by  the  painter  of  pale, 
undemonstrative  flowers  for  delineation  ; of  roses  grown  in  shadowy  places,  whose 
fragile  beauty  needs  a champion  and  an  interpreter.  They  are  as  unlike  as  possible 
to  those  mysteries  of  flame  and  gloom  with  which  Mr.  Lafarge  delighted  the  color- 
loving  public,  before  he  learned  to  apply  the  same  combinations  and  produce  the 
same  mysteries  of  tint  in  church  and  cathedral  windows.  His  early  reputation  as  a 
colorist  was  undoubtedly  made  by  his  studies  or  paintings  of  flowers. 

Indeed,  there  are  lessons  to  be  learned  from  these  color-pots  of  nature  which 
would  go  far  toward  making  colorists  of  many  a careful,  able,  figure-painter,  whose 
dull  and  cloudy  canvases  fail  to  please  the  public  eye  or  appeal  to  the  popular  sense 
of  beauty. 

The  meaning  of  flower-painting  is  the  satisfaction  of  that  most  constant  joy  of 
seeing  — the  enjoyment  of  beautiful  color.  Other  art  may  appeal  to  the  intellect,  to 
the  various  forms  of  emotion,  to  the  different  effects  of  education  upon  the  mind, 
to  the  affections,  or  to  the  hobbies  and  fancies  of  humanity ; and  these  may  be 
affected  without  the  use  of  a single  tint  of  color,  sometimes  even  in  a greater  degree 
by  the  very  absence  of  tint ; but  flower-painting,  as  a recognized  form  of  art,  exists 
only  upon  its  possibilities  of  color.  Every  artist  must  give  this  one  common  quality 
of  flower  life,  although  he  or  she  may  make  it  peculiar  by  individual  appreciation. 


They  may  even  add  a sort  of  personality,  an  aroma  of  character  which  marks  the 
human  consciousness  of  the  painter.  As,  for  instance,  in  Mrs.  Dillon’s  flower- 
paintings.  These  are  strongly  characterized  by  domesticity.  One  cannot  help  being 
conscious  of  the  room  which  they  for  the  moment  beautify,  and  of  the  person  who 
had  to  do  with  them.  They  are  curiously  individual,  also.  Each  flower  makes  its 
single  impression,  and  could  not  be  mistaken  for  any  other  in  the  group;  but  no 
matter  how  individual  they  may  be,  they  and  their  dainty  surroundings  never  fail  to 
melt  into  a beautiful  whole. 

It  is  interesting  to  contrast  these  flower- paintings  — perfectly  true  as  they  are  to 
the  artist’s  habit  of  indoor  life — with  flowers  ; with  the  paintings  of  Miss  Green  and 
Miss  Bartol,  whose  flowers  invariably  give  an  impression  of  surrounding  nature. 
Light  and  shadow,  color  and  motion,  seem  to  quiver  around  them,  linking  them  to 
the  beauty  of  the  outside  world,  even  when  they  have  become  only  a bit  of  color 
hung  upon  a wall. 

There  is  a strength  and  freedom  of  handling  in  the  work  of  these  two  painters 
which  is  very  masculine  ; but  the  intuition,  the  understanding  of  their  flower-subjects, 
is  purely  feminine.  The  characteristics  are  clearly  given,  but  with  broad,  free  hand- 
ling, and  the  constant  reference  to  decorative  effect,  which  belongs  of  necessity  to 
the  subjects. 

The  painting  of  flowers  must  always  be  a temptation  to  artists  who  are  women, 
because  the  flowers  themselves  enter  so  closely  into  the  enjoyments  of  a woman’s  life. 
Consequently  there  are,  and  always  will  be,  more  women  than  men  who  confine 
themselves  to  flower-painting,  even  when  they  have  studied  broadly.  As  a rule,  the 
very  first  use  a woman  makes  of  brushes  and  color  is  to  paint  a flower ; and  although 
she  may  be  led  into  the  highest  and  most  difficult  walks  of  art,  unless  she  is  more 
than  commonly  successful  as  a figure  or  landscape  painter,  flowers  will  continue  to 
be  her  favorite  subjects.  The  very  fact  that  women  seek  so  constantly  the  com- 
panionship of  flowers,  and  owe  so  much  happiness  to  that  companionship,  should  make 
them  their  truest  interpreters.  That  they  are  not  is  perhaps  partly  due  to  the  fact 
that,  until  within  the  present  decade,  few  women  have  studied  art  as  thoroughly  as 
men  have  studied,  and  possibly  because  they  regard  them  too  intimately  to  choose 
the  one  or  two  aspects  of  flower  life  which  are  really  paintable.  Their  minute  knowl- 
edge prevents  the  power  of  abstraction  from  the  subject  which  would  enable  them  to 
paint  its  impression  upon  the  mind,  rather  than  the  actual  thing.  The  flower  is  before 
them,  and  they  paint  it  with  every  physical  fact  of  its  existence,  because  their 
intimate  knowledge  and  close  observation  impress  these  facts  upon  them.  They  paint 
it  as  the  eye  sees  it,  but  not  as  the  eye  passes  it  on  to  the  mind  — a simple  whole  of 
beauty.  In  short,  the  individual  flower  is  literally  rendered  ; but  the  sweet  suggestion 
of  its  changeful  life  is  wanting.  It  is  a portrait  which  might  go  down  to  flower- 
posterity  or,  perhaps,  a group  of  portraits  ; but  its  effect  as  a beautiful  and  decorative 
whole  is  unrecorded.  A flower  piece  should  be  a decorative  blot  of  color,  with  as 
much  of  the  character  of  the  particular  plant  which  makes  the  color  as  can  be  truth- 
fully given  and  not  destroy  the  oneness  of  impression.  Characteristics  indeed  are 
indispensable,  for  the  human  mind  is  so  constituted  that  it  rarely  finds  complete 
satisfaction  in  beauty  which  lacks  truth.  If  a flower-painting  is  not  true  to  the 
characteristics  of  the  flower  which  is  its  subject,  even  beauty  of  color  will  not  make 


it  acceptable  to  the  general  mind.  Of  course,  we  are  treating  of  flower-painting  pure 
and  simjale,  and  not  of  flowers  painted  as  accessories  to  subjects  of  intellectual  or 
emotional  interest ; for  exactly  in  proportion  as  this  is  done,  we  link  it  to  higher  art 
and  make  it  subject  to  other  laws. 

Decoratively  treated  alone,  there  is  a large  and  growing  field  for  flower-painting 
in  the  life  of  the  present.  It  is  the  fashion  of  the  day  to  create  beautiful  and  luxurious 
homes,  and  this  fashion,  or  tendency,  encourages  every  form  of  art  which  is  peculiarly 
adapted  to  the  beautifying  of  interiors.  This  form  of  art,  therefore,  which  appeals 
directly  to  the  natural  love  of  color,  and  neither  taxes  the  imagination  or  requires  the 
training  which  goes  to  an  intelligent  appreciation  of  a more  intellectual  form  of  art, 
must  always  be  popular. 

A flower  picture,  in  a harmoniously  decorated  room,  connects  itself  with  all  the 
gradations  which  space  and  light  and  shadow  may  make  in  its  various  tones,  and 
emphasizing  them  in  one  glowing  block  of  color,  calls  and  rests  the  sight,  as  a group 
of  blossoms  in  a hedge  attracts  the  eye  from  all  the  soft  monotonies  of  greens  and 
browns  in  leaf  and  stem. 

Such  a picture  has  the  effect  of  a beautiful  piece  of  stained  glass,  and  is  in  the 
best  and  highest  degree  a satisfaction  to  the  senses.  It  is  true,  a piece  of  glass  has 
the  gift  of  diffusion,  as  well  as  concentration  of  color,  and  can  by  diffusion  of  color 
almost  make  an  ugly  room  beautiful ; but  it  can  add  no  more  to  a room  already 
beautiful,  and  does  not  minister  as  simply  to  simple  tastes. 

As  a part  of  the  wonderful  development  of  the  decorative  arts  in  the  New,  as 
well  as  in  the  Old  World,  we  may  certainly  look  in  the  near  future  for  better  flower- 
painting and  better  flower-painters  than  the  world  has  yet  seen. 

C.WDACE  Wheeler 


WOMEN  AS  ART  CRITICS 


N ART,  as  in  life,  the  ultimate  results,  the  strongest  influ- 
ence on  humanity,  is  the  meter  by  which  the  work- 
must  be  judged,  and  by  which  it  must  stand  or  fall. 
In  all  creative  work  it  is  not  merely  the  blind  and 
indefinite  impulse  to  bring  into  being,  but  the  worth 
of  what  is  created,  that  determines  the  true  power 
of  the  artist.  Neither  literature  nor  art  is  an  ultimate 
and  final  end.  Paintings  and  statuary  are  not  suf- 
ficient in  themselves,  but  are  the  means  to  that  end, 
which  consists  in  the  cultivation  of  the  finest  elements 
of  life.  In  that  proportion  to  which  they  contribute  to  this  end  they  are  a success; 
wherein  they  do  not,  they  are  a failure.  “ All  high  works  of  art,”  says  Goethe,  “ are 
expressions  of  humanity.” 

The  relation  of  the  critic  to  the  artist  should  be  that  of  the  interpreter  to  the 
master.  “ True  communion  of  thought,”  says  Margaret  Fuller,  “is  worship,  not  criti- 
cism.” And  the  significance  involved  in  this  expression  holds  for  us  the  clew  that 
may  lead  us  into  that  labyrinth  of  mystery  — art  criticism,  and  even  hold  an  illumina- 
tion on  it.  The  amateur  critic  conceives  the  dignity  and  vindication  of  his  office  to 
lie  in  the  detection  of  faults.  To  him  criticism  is  the  record  of  errors.  He  must 
establish  his  fancied  superiority  of  pointing  out  failures.  This  method  is  the  destruc- 
tive, never  the  constructive.  Too  often  he  utterly  lacks  that  delicate  power  of  divina- 
tion by  which  alone  he  may  be  able  to  perceive  the  artist’s  ideal,  which  is  the  only 
true  standard  for  the  measurement  of  his  work, — and  instead  he  constructs  an  ideal 
of  his  own,  to  which  he  endeavors  to  adjust  the  creation,  and  failing,  he  declares  its 
signal  faults.  Insight  is  the  key  to  all  true  criticism,  work  must  be  judged  by 
what  it  is  rather  than  by  what  it  is  not. 

With  this  standard  of  criticism,  which  is,  in  its  way,  an  almost  absolute  standard, 
we  may  ask  the  question.  Are  women  eligible  as  art  critics  ? Is  there  anything  in  the 
greater  sensibility,  the  emotional  power,  or  the  susceptibility  to  impressions,  which  are 
popularly  supposed  to  especially  characterize  the  feminine  mind,  that  shall  unfit 
women  for  the  office  so  often  conceived  to  be  one  of  retributive  justice  alone. 
Admitting  insight  to  be  the  key  to  all  true  criticism,  the  qualities  of  swift  perception 


of  the  artist’s  purpose,  of  sympathy  with  a recognized  aim,  of  exquisite  suscepti- 
bility to  its  inner  meanings,  should  lend  to  their  possessor  a deeper  power  for  the 
important  office  of  criticism.  Yet  just  here  we  rise  to  the  impersonal  in  critical 
ability,  as  we  do  in  the  ability  for  artistic  creation.  The  artist  and  the  critic  should 
know,  in  their  true  and  exalted  sense,  no  distinction  of  man  or  woman  ; but  simply  the 
impersonation  of  the  gifts  and  the  qualities  that  confer  upon  the  individual  the  power 
to  become  either  artist  or  critic;  for  between  the  two  offices  there  is  in  reality  no 
antagonism.  Artistic  creation  and  artistic  appreciation  — using  the  term  in  its  finest 
and  most  discriminative  sense  — should  complement  each  other.  The  critic  is  not  the 
natural  enemy  of  the  artist,  although  a degraded  and  perverted  criticism  may  often 
make  him  appear  to  be  so.  Art  is  a unity,  in  which  both  meet. 

In  Pater’s  “ Studies  of  the  History  of  the  Renaissance,”  he  includes  a chapter  on 
Winckelmann,  in  which  he  quotes  Goethe’s  feelings  toward  that  critic.  “ Goethe 
speaks,”  says  Mr.  Pater,  “ of  Winckelmann  as  a teacher  who  had  made  his  career  pos- 
sible, but  whom  he  had  never  seen.  He  conceived  him  to  be  a man  of  an  abstract 
type  of  culture,  consummate,  tranquil,  withdrawn  already  into  the  region  of  ideals,  yet 
retaining  color  from  the  incidents  of  a passionate  intellectual  life.” 

Hegel,  also,  in  his  ‘‘  Philosophy  of  Art,”  gives  this  striking  judgment  on  Winckel- 
mann’s  critical  writings,  when  he  says  of  him  : “ Winckelmann,  by  contemplation  of 
the  ideal  works  of  the  ancients,  received  a sort  of  inspiration,  through  which  he 
opened  a new  sense  for  the  study  of  art.  He  is  to  be  regarded  as  one  of  those  who,  in 
the  sphere  of  art,  have  known  how  to  initiate  a new  organ  for  the  human  spirit.” 

Mr.  Pater  says  of  this  passage  from  Hegel,  that  “ the  highest  that  can  be  said  of  any 

critical  effort  is,  that  it  has  laid  open  a new  organ  and  given  a new  sense.” 

If  women  in  entering  the  field  of  art  criticism,  can  hold  themselves  amenable  to 

this  standard  ; if  they  will,  above  all  things,  seek  the  divine  guidance  of  truth  and  of 

that  insight  which  reveals  truth  ; if  they  will  hold  themselves  responsive,  first,  to  the 
true  ideal  in  art,  and  secondly,  to  the  individual  ideal  of  the  artist  in  his  creations,  and 
realize  that  criticism  is  discrimination,  appreciation,  and  interpretation  : feeling  this, 
and  attuned  to  sympathy  with  that  moral  purpose  involved  in  all  artistic  creation, 
women  may  surely  contribute  to  the  finer  interpretation  of  art  in  America. 


Lilian  Whiting 


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